Power Play
by Commander In Chief
Summary: Clayton
1. Prologue

Prologue  
  
Awakening  
  
  
  
I sighed while studying my own reflection in the mirror. It was still steamed from my shower, but it served its purpose. The reflected face seemed different somehow. But then again, I am different. I always have been. But now, I acknowledge those dissimilarities. Today, I look upon myself and I know myself.  
  
I know I'm a mutant.  
  
And I refuse to deny it to myself any longer. From this day on - things are going to be different. I've got powers - and I'm going to use them. I don't need to hide anything. From anyone. I won't advertise, but I won't deny my gifts, either. Not anymore.  
  
I don't know why I decided to go through with a ritualistic bathing. Showering just made me feel better, though. Cleaner. Maybe it's because I needed to look myself in the face one last time before I stepped off that cliff. I leaned forward on the bathroom countertop and studied my visage once more. From now on things will be different, I vowed one last time.  
  
I padded back to my room in a towel, where my clothes were laid out on the bed. I'd decided to wear all black for tonight's activities - jeans, t-shirt, belt, shoes and socks, and even a ski cap to cover up my hair and face. I donned the hat last, before taking one good long look around my cluttered dorm room.  
  
I chuckled to myself looking at the strewn papers, text books, and dirty clothes. Rooms like this had been home to me for two-and-a-half years. Me and a good number of the rest of my friends. And just like them, I'd had the lived the "normal" college routine- getting up in the morning, going to class, studying, dating, eating, drinking, partying. But tonight - all those things change. Because I'm not really like any of them.Not in the ways that count.  
  
This is it. No turning back, now. I took a couple of deep steadying breaths and finished putting on my "costume".  
  
Then - and only then - did I do it. I reached down, inside myself, and touched my powers. I felt a surge of adrenaline as I consciously activated them. My heart started beating rapidly and I felt my cheeks flush in anticipation. Here I go, I thought.  
  
Quickly, I 'scanned' the other rooms and the area around the house. My fraternity brothers were doing what I'd expected them to be doing at this hour: homework, playing video games, and the like. No one would notice my little jaunt. So I took the proverbial 'leap'.  
  
I thought back to the last time I'd used my powers. The very last time.I'd glowed with a fierce bluish-white light. It was like striking a match to my body; I was surrounded in a warm, luminescent sheen. I looked down at my arms and legs, like an infant discovery his appendages for the first time. A lump rose in my throat as I studied my hands burning before me in a strange, intoxicating energy. The walls before me were bathed in light, and for a moment, I almost forgot that four years had gone by since I'd felt like this. But I couldn't stay in my room for long, shining like a star on a cloudless night. I had to get out into the open.test out my powers. I had to be free.  
  
I couldn't just walk out the front door either. I refused to de-activate my powers now that I'd turned the on again. But getting out the window wasn't going to be any easier. Especially since the my room faced the courtyard. I had to wait for an opportune time - when no one would be looking, of course - then exit the house by flying out of the 2nd story window into the cold night air. Once outside, I arced back up the building to the roof and landed lightly.  
  
A fall breeze ruffled my clothing as I looked over the campus. It looked so different from up here. Serene, peaceful. It was a beautiful view that only served to remind me that I'd been missing out. I chided myself for my own ignorance.and fear. But only for a moment.  
  
The light I emanated was actually a by-product of some sort of protective heat-shield. At least it kept the chilly December wind at bay. I paused, drinking in the night, before I lifted off from the roof. I hovered for a moment - just long enough to be assured that my powers were, in fact, working properly. Then I launched straight up in the air, set off in an easterly direction, and began to fly in earnest.  
  
I don't know what its like for other mutants to fly, but for me it's exhilarating. The wind racing by me, diving and ducking around stationary objects, zipping near the ground, so fast that buildings, cars, and people are blurs. I was no longer confined to two-dimensions; I could loop around, do a barrel roll, flip onto my back, although that gave me a weird sensation. I guess flying is sort of like swimming . . . minus the wetness, and the dense medium. And you can't swim as fast as you can fly . . . I pushed away that thought and focused in on flying. I'd given it up for so long - I didn't want to lose out on even a minute!  
  
I completed a pass around the city, before settling down on the 36th story of the Cathedral of Learning. I was breathing hard by then and my heart was pounding in my ears. And I know I had this goofy grin on my face. I felt like I'd just won a race. "I can't believe I've been missing out on all this," I said aloud. I looked around from my perch - an old building that housed some of the classes for U. of Pitt. "I can't believe this building is so dirty." I stood, wiping off the back of my jeans, slightly annoyed. I couldn't stay mad for long, though. I was free!  
  
I leaned forward tumbling off the building head first. I let gravity take hold of me, moving me faster and faster. I used my powers to push off from building - keeping away from the myriad flagpoles and awnings, but I didn't pull out of the dive until I was a few feet from the ground.  
  
Stretching my arms out in front of me, I raced onward and upward. I pushed myself hard, whistling through the freezing air up into the sky. The city noises quickly faded away. It was amazing to see the whole metropolis sprawled out below me. All the twinkling lights.the buildings, the cars. But I rested for only a second to soak in the view. Then I soared higher and higher until the air grew thin, and I could feel the cold prickling at the edges of my shields.  
  
It was quiet there amongst the cloud cover but I felt alive - like I was coming out of a deep sleep. One I hadn't even known I'd been in. For the first time in almost four years, I felt - I don't know - whole? It was that realization - that sudden burst of sensation - that made me stop, thousands of feet above the ground.  
  
Not using my powers.had it somehow made me feel.incomplete? I began to carefully contemplate my actions over the last five years. The hiding, the denial, keeping people at arm's length. I'd sunk into a rut, throwing myself into my school work and activities.Had I done that so I wouldn't have to think about life? Was I merely going through the motions of living without really doing so? Not truly feeling or experiencing?  
  
I'd kept everyone from getting close.because I didn't want anyone to know how different I was? What was I afraid of? I turned that thought around and over in my mind. I didn't want to admit that I was afraid of anything. As far as I was concerned - fear was a weakness. And so was feeling.  
  
And I silenced the little voice that attempted to negate the falseness of my own thoughts; that little voice that disagreed with me. The one that said I really might be afraid of getting close to anyone.  
  
I took long deep breaths. The air was cold and pure. Breathing deeply here above the clouds, where the air had been essentially untouched by pollutants and people, I felt as if the cobwebs had been cleared away. I attributed my sudden clarity of thought and energy rush to adrenaline and the purity of the air this far above the old run-down steel mill town that was Pittsburgh.  
  
No matter, I thought to myself. Now isn't the time for self-examination and recriminations. Youth wasted on the young? Not me, I thought. . I'm just going to enjoy - live in the moment. I'd held back from using my powers, from being a mutant - being me - for so long. To fly high amongst the clouds like I used to do. To taste the air, and chase the storms, 'walk' in the sun light. The last brought a smile to my lips. Thinking about the summer sun, and how I used to fly really high up into the atmosphere so I could be close to the sun. I'd feel the light wrapped around me, like an old security blanket. It'd been so long since I'd felt the light like that . . .  
  
Well I wasn't going to do it anymore - I wouldn't deny who I am again. "I'm going to be me," I swore. Being a mutant is part of who I am and I won't deny it! "No more!" I shouted, feeling excitement build.  
  
A burst of energy sprang from deep down within me. Instead of pushing it back down, as I've had to do before, I cut loose. Power, light, and heat, sprang from my whole body as I hung there in mid-air. I glowed as bright and as powerful as a star, lighting up the entire city for a briefest of moments. I felt free, for the first time in a long time. Powerful, stronger, and more confident than I'd ever been.  
  
"By the Bright Lady - it's good to be free!"  
  
* * * * *  
  
Across the globe, in various different locations, simultaneously, three separate mutant tracking devices began to hum to life. One was ignored completely as its owner had gone to bed early. However, the proprietors of the other two instruments were quite attentive to their mutant detection facilities and observed the phenomenon with interest. Both sat back as their respective computers began to accumulate information, processing, storing, and analyzing. And both began to make plans surrounding the mutant, their thoughts on times past. And the future.  
  
  
  
This story © 2001 Sherman L Taylor, II  
  
Clayton "Tres" Darkmoon © 2001 Sherman L Taylor, II  
  
The X-Men, Professor Charles Xavier, and all constituent  
  
characters © 2001 Marvel Comics Group.  
  
This story is not for sale and is not to be distributed without  
  
permission of the author.  
  
Please electronically mail comments to CommanderInChf@aol.com.  
  
All constructive criticism is appreciated. 


	2. Chapter 1: Conundrum

Chapter One  
  
Conundrum  
  
This is a cliché, but I felt like a kid on Christmas morning.  
  
I spent the better part of the evening flying around Pittsburgh, tapping into abilities that I'd sworn never to use again. I was euphoric most of the night; trying out my powers gave me a rush. I was a little rusty, though - there were definitely some rough edges that needed to be smoothed out. I was fairly certain that I could get comfortable with my powers again over time, with a little bit of practice.For right now, though, I was just glad to be using them.  
  
I stayed up until the sky turned pink in the pre-dawn hours. I made a conscious effort to remain awake that long. For me, the sun rise was symbolic of the new life that I would be starting. One where I wouldn't have to be afraid of who I am or what I could do.  
  
I greeted the day, sitting cross-legged on the roof of my fraternity house and stared unblinking at the sun's light as it ascended the sky. Part of my power shielded me from the harmful effects of the sunlight. I could look directly into it without getting hurt. For that matter - I never needed sunglasses either.  
  
I wish I could explain how the sun rise looks to me. I know what it looks like and how it feels to everyone else - all the colors and the warmth as this solar system's star regains the sky. But for me - it's more than just the visual. I can touch the light.I guess my powers let me see things other people don't. When I look at the sun, I can see the something akin to a rainbow. Except there are more "colors" than you would see in a normal spectrum. Each band has its own respective 'signature'. I can feel them all wrapped around me in a protective cocoon. It's like sunbathing - I can feel the light moving inside and out, through me, warming me. The energy is the most resplendent at sunrise and most aesthetically satisfying.  
  
I returned to my room shortly after dawn. A sort of tense excitement had kept me going most of the night, but I realized I was exhausted when I flew those last few feet from the roof back to my bedroom. Luckily, the sudden draft of the window opening didn't wake my roommate. I set down on the bed and crawled under the covers and was asleep as soon as I closed my eyes.  
  
* * * * *  
  
My roommate was gone by the time I got up. I swung my legs over the edge of the top bunk and floated gently down to the ground. Once more land bound, I stretched languorously. I was sore in places that I hadn't realized could get sore and my head ached dully. I theorized that it was probably from using my powers, accessing areas of my brain that were atrophied from four years of disuse. Nevertheless, I refused to let a few aches and pains get me down.  
  
I got a bottle of juice out of the small refrigerator we kept in our room and plopped into a chair. I clicked on the TV, flipping through several channels, finally settling on a soap opera. I stared mindlessly at the screen while I contemplated my recent actions. I'd never told anyone what I could do. Well, not anyone in America, anyway. I couldn't trust anyone with that kind of information. The general public hated mutants simply for existing. I imagined that being both black and a being a mutant meant there were two strikes against me. I drained the bottle of juice and stared at the empty container as if it held the answers to all my questions.  
  
I'd opened Pandora's box by consciously deciding to use my powers again. And I felt like I'd just scratched the surface. I wondered if maybe some of my powers had disappeared or weakened.Who knows what's happened to them in four years? Last night I hadn't really focused on doing anything specific. I hadn't really thought that far ahead.Mostly I'd just enjoyed myself. But now, I was curious. What if I had lost some of my power? What then? It seemed logical that disuse of my abilities would make them wane, and that I'd have to work really hard just to get them back to where they were before my Europe trip.  
  
Perfect practice makes perfect, a former voice instructor of mine used to say. And there's no time like the present. I did a quick 'scan' of the building to see who was around. When I 'scanned' something per say, like the fraternity house, I got mental images of what was happening around me. It's sort of like having a camera crew anywhere and everywhere you wanted to see something. I just thought about the region I wanted to view and - Presto! I could see what was going on. The few fraternity brothers left in the house this morning were sleeping. I felt reasonably sure that I could practice in relative safety, but I'd keep an eye out anyway. I shoved the images back down, knowing they'd be there when I wanted them again.  
  
I pushed on my power center - that place in my head or wherever, that let me access my abilities - and began to summon basketball sized light spheres into being. I got up to six, which had been my limit when I was 15. I ordered them around the room, forcing them to whirl around at dizzying speeds, making them change colors at varying frequencies. I had a pretty fair light show going when I felt a familiar buzz in the back of my skull. I focused my radar sense on the world outside of my room and saw Andy coming up the short flight of stairs to the second floor where I our room was.  
  
Damnit! I almost panicked but then forced myself to be calm. My roommate was far enough away that I could dissipate everything in an orderly manner and climb back into bed. By the time I was safe under the covers, my roommate was unlocking the door and walking inside. I feigned sleep while he threw his bag on the ground and sat down at his desk. However, the close call and the excitement that had kept me going were rapidly wearing off. I didn't have to pretend to be asleep for long.  
  
* * * * *  
  
I woke hours later, more refreshed that I'd felt in a long time. I struggled for a moment, trying to figure out why I'd been roused from such a good sleep. The phone rang again, answering my question.  
  
I sat up, shedding my bed covers as I ID'd my impromptu alarm clock. I floated down to hover over the desk, then picked up the cordless with one hand. I pressed the 'Talk' button while I lifted myself back to the bed.  
  
"Hello," I said sleepily, stifling a yawn.  
  
"This is Professor Charles Xavier to speak with Mr. Clayton Darkmoon," an authoritative voice replied. "Is he available?"  
  
"Speaking," I replied, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I searched my mind for an recollection of a Professor Xavier, but drew a blank. "How are you today?" I asked politely.  
  
"I am fine, thank you," he stated civilly. "And yourself, young man?"  
  
"I'm a little tired, actually. But doing well nonetheless." And I'm making small talk with a complete stranger, I reminded myself after a moment. Obviously out of my gourd.  
  
"Excellent," he said. It sounded perfunctory to me, but I stifled a sarcastic remark. "Mr. Darkmoon, I am the Headmaster of an exclusive school in New York. One that offers special programs to exceptionally talented youths, like yourself." I suddenly got the distinct feeling I was talking to some sort of brochure salesman while he began to rattle off the virtues of his supposed school. "I've taken the time to review your academic record and at this time would like to set up an interview with you," he was saying.  
  
"I see," I said after a moment. "Well, Professor, I'm already enrolled in school." As he would know if he really had looked at my record.  
  
"Which I am aware of, Mr. Darkmoon. However, The School for Gifted Youngsters here in New York does offer a wide assortment of collegiate courses as well as several other programs that may interest you. We are accredited," he said. Right before I'd had a chance to ask.  
  
"I see," I said again.  
  
"Some of my students and I are planning on being in the Pittsburgh area tomorrow. I would greatly appreciate the opportunity to sit down with you and discuss, at length, the nature of the scholastic programs we have to offer. I can assure you that this will be a very productive use of your time."  
  
"Okay," I agreed, without thinking. This guy has me completely off- balance. I kicked myself for my inability to counter his arguments effectively.  
  
"Excellent," he said. I could almost envision a satisfied smirk on his face. He proceeded to detail his travel arrangements - arrival time at the airport, and then our rendezvous on campus. The interview would be conducted over dinner - I selected the restaurant on the spot. We mapped out all the formalities - or rather - he stated the terms and I agreed again and again. "If you would like, you may speak with a student of mine, to provide a different perspective," he offered at the end.  
  
"Um.that would be acceptable," I stated, trying to salvage some of my adulthood.  
  
"Please hold," he said. I waited patiently, pulling my blanket around me. It was more a gesture of security than warmth. I could generate my own heat.  
  
"Hello," a female voice said shortly. Her voice was low, with an accent that was all too familiar. I immediately felt more comfortable with than I had with anyone in a long time.  
  
"Hello," I replied warmly.  
  
"I am Ororo. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," she said agreeably.  
  
"I'm Tres. The pleasure is all mine," I stated in the most chivalrous tone I could muster.  
  
"Professor Xavier informs me that we will be visiting you tomorrow," she said.  
  
"Yes. Conducting an interview," I said. Of sorts, anyway. I hope it goes better than the phone conversation we just had.  
  
"You are an engineer?" Ororo asked.  
  
"Yes. Chemical." The gossip wheel was grinding on me already, I thought. But I kept my smart-aleck comment to myself.  
  
"What year?" she said.  
  
"Junior. I graduate in another three semesters," I said proudly.  
  
"And what are your plans after graduation?" she said with interest.  
  
"Well - I'm thinking about grad school," I said. I began to gently give off heat, warming myself. "But I'm not sure yet. I am thinking about getting my Ph. D., and then heading out into the work force. But I've got a year to decide what I'm going to do. I may just get a job after I graduate."  
  
"Have you decided which schools you would like to apply to?"  
  
I pondered briefly. "Well, definitely Stanford, maybe Cornell, and probably M.I.T.. If I went to M.I.T., I've already got my advisor picked out," I prattled on. That opened up the discussion on why I was going for more education, where I would work after school, and what I wanted to do in life. There was a slight pause after I finished telling her some of my long-term goals. Ororo asked detailed questions in an unassuming way and was very adept at getting information while maintaining a light conversational tone. All in all, a very thorough spy.  
  
"So - you enjoy the school?" I asked. Now it was my time to fire off the questions.  
  
"Very much so," she replied sincerely.  
  
"Are there a lot of other students?" I asked.  
  
"No. This institution is devoted to a very specific sect of society. Admission is by invitation only," she said.  
  
"Oh." Sounds elitist. Just my style, I thought with a smug half-smile. "How long have you attended?"  
  
"Several years," she replied. There was a momentary pause and a . . . sigh? I sensed we were delving into an uncomfortable area. "Well - what kind of facilities do you all have?" I asked, turning the conversation towards the facts.  
  
"Xavier's School has an Olympic size pool, a gymnasium, a lake, an infirmary," she listed right off the bat. "We are quite close to Salem Center, New York. Have you ever been?"  
  
I said 'No' to both. I'd never really been to New York - certainly not at an age where I could appreciate it. "Who will be coming with Professor Xavier to Pittsburgh," I asked.  
  
"I will be attending," she said. "Piotr will also be present," she said.  
  
"Piotr?" I sounded out strange name.  
  
"Yes." I could sense her mirth through the phone. "Piotr or Peter - the American version of his name. He is Russian."  
  
"Ah," I replied. There was a short pause while I digested the information. I couldn't think of anything to ask her and - looking at the clock - I'd been on the phone for almost an hour. Even mutants have to go to class some time. "Well.I guess I should get off this phone. I'll see you tomorrow, Ororo. Thank you for taking the time to talk with me."  
  
"You're quite welcome, Tres," she said. "If you have further questions, please feel free to ask Peter or myself, tomorrow," she said.  
  
"I certainly will," I promised. I'd probably show up to the interview with a list. "Have a good night."  
  
"And you as well," she said. "Goodbye."  
  
"'Bye," I said, before hanging up the phone. I floated over to my desk and lay it down. What had I gotten myself into?  
  
* * * * *  
  
The day fairly flew by after I'd spoken to Professor Xavier and Ororo. I had some studying to do - Physical Chemistry. Finals were right around the corner. So I sequestered myself off in the library for a few hours. At least until it was dark enough for me to go out and experiment with my powers again. This time, I'd used them a little more aggressively than I had last night.  
  
I wish I could say I was disciplined enough to get a sufficient amount of work done. That night I was fairly distracted - what with my re- discovered powers and the interview tomorrow. I managed to drag myself through my work, doing a patchwork job on the studying. It was close to 9 by the time I'd decided I was through with studying and working. I'd had enough waiting. I'd much rather be out and about, than cooped up in the library with the other bookworms. It didn't take long to pack everything up and head back to my room. I changed into my face-revealing "costume" and prepared for the festivities.  
  
Tonight, I flew from my room to the Cathedral of Learning. It was about a mile away, a distance I covered in less than a blink of the eye. Literally. It was quite cold out, by now, especially hundreds of feet above the city. In December, in Pittsburgh - I should have been freezing, I reminded myself. But I wasn't. I surrounded myself in a warm cocoon, glowing slightly around my black ensemble.  
  
It seemed to me that my powers had grown. Now that I had released them - or rather - that I was expressing them, I was becoming more and more aware of what I could do. Was it like that for every mutant? Do we all just know what we can do? It felt like a part of me was slowly becoming awake after hibernating. Like I was lucid of . . . something. It was just . . . odd. Knowing you could do something before you could do it. What all could I do?  
  
I 'scanned' the ground beneath me. There were people below me so I didn't even think about trying the same cannonball stunt I'd done last night. This time, I lifted off the building and flew around the city. I wanted some place to practice where I wouldn't attract to much attention. I considered myself very lucky not to have aroused the attention of anyone with that sunburst last night. I shrugged to myself. "Oh well. What were they going to do? Lock me up? Far lot of good that would do." I smiled.  
  
I completed a slow barrel roll in the air, arms extended out in front of me. I flew with my arms out in front of me for balance. It helped me remain stable while I was airborne. To me it was analogous to swinging your arms when you walk. Try walking while holding your arms pinned to your side. It's just unnatural. By the same token, so was trying to fly with your hands down.  
  
I made my way towards a run down part of the city. I needed to be in a section where there weren't going to be any people at all, in case my overzealous nature took over. I scouted around for a few moments before I found a street that had been targeted as a future site for a demolition crew. One building that was still in fairly good shape had several condemned signs. I selected that one as my new "playground".  
  
I touched down on the roof, hardly making a sound. I scanned the area to see if anyone was around before melting a hole in the ceiling with a bolt of white energy. Yeah - I know - it was a gross abuse of my power. But the way I see it, the building was already condemned. Not like it wasn't going to get torn down anyway.  
  
I dropped gently through the new skylight and landed on the floor. It was a moonlit night, and I could see fairly well outside, but it was pitch black inside. Nevertheless I could see as easily as if it were day. I guess it was part of my mutant nature that I was not only shielded from excessive light, that I could see in almost absolute darkness. While I denied myself active uses of my powers, things like that I could not turn on and off as I chose. So I had adapted to it over the years. Now I took it for granted.  
  
I could make out the abandoned desks and chairs in what used to be an old office building, the broken down water cooler in the corner. Every detail, every object - I could see them all in the dark. But, I could also create light and did so. Four glowing white globes appeared out of thin air. Each was about the size of a beach ball and brightened the large room considerably.  
  
Creating light was something I had done years ago, when my mutant nature first manifested myself. That, along with my flight, 'scanning', and heat generation were things that just came naturally. But that was four years ago. Now I've grown up some, and my powers have too. That sunburst was a prime example. I'd never been able to light up a whole city before. And that glow had lit up all of Pittsburgh, even if it had lasted only a second.  
  
Maybe it was because of.I shuddered to think of that particular scenario or the monster responsible for it. However, I couldn't deny that it might have something to do with my power increase. I pushed that thought aside and concentrated on "working out".  
  
Unfortunately, I wasn't the only occupant that night. Even as I was settling into the room, I heard scratching. I didn't have time to think about why that noise sounded familiar as tiny clawed feet began to move across the floor. The sudden light scared several of the previous denizens of the building - the rats. One of them ran right by me. Crud - that really freaked me out!  
  
I glared at the foul thing, angry and startled because it was so close. I 'tracked' a straggling rodent as it scampered across the room towards a hole, my eyes narrowed slits. And then again, I felt the tingling sensation in the back of my head.  
  
Twin beams of light leapt forth from my eyes, catching the rodent in the back. The little furball exploded in fire. It stopped moving and collapsed to the floor, dead. The fire died quickly as it consumed the rat, leaving the charred remains. All this takes a long time to describe, but in reality it lasted less than a second.  
  
My disgust quickly gave way to astonishment. Even the fact that I had killed another living thing didn't startle me as much as the method by which it had died. Rats are disgusting anyway, I thought as I crossed the room to examine the small pile of ashes.  
  
Sheesh - look at what I can do! I thought, elated. I looked across the room, and 'glared' at a desk. I concentrated a moment and was rewarded by another laser, this time burning a small hole in an old desk, about the size of a dime. I tried the stunt again, this time, going for a larger area of influence. The beams widened, encompassing two fist sized areas in the wall, leaving gaping holes in the bricks.  
  
I spent a few more minutes, using my eyes to score dozens of holes in several targets. I quickly found that I could control the intensity and the surface area of the beams. I'd never channeled my powers through my sight before.it was unusual. All that 'glaring' though, left me feeling slightly drained and dizzy. I sat down in a chair with no back and rested briefly.  
  
I took a couple of deep steadying breaths and began to sum up what I had done, wondering what else it was I could do. I hadn't consciously tried to access new aspects of my abilities. My powers seemed like they were there when I needed them, so it made me wonder what else lay in store for me. I never set out to burn that rat to the ground with my power. But it did give me another way to use my abilities.  
  
All this power.and nothing to use it for. What would I do with them for anyway? Superheroing? Rescuing cats from trees? Stopping criminals from robbing banks? What? I snickered to myself. Better to worry about how not to use it, like burning vermin in their tracks.  
  
My gaze fell upon one of the light-spheres that hovered in the corner. I summoned it to my side for closer study. I could put my hand on it, and through it, like it wasn't even there. I only felt a slight warmth as I touched it. I concentrated and forced it to expand until it was 6 feet in diameter. Then I re-arranged the shape until it was an ellipsis. I made it bend in half and re-form into a cube. I soon tired of that though, and looked around the room, letting my mind wander.  
  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
Charles Xavier was up late. Again. He was still pouring over the results from Cerebro's analysis of mutant X's abilities. The analytical program it had run had determined numerous genetic compatibilities with a variety of mutants. Cerebro automatically categorized all super-powered beings it came across in its constant search for neo-mutants. Storing the data in its computer banks, it ran comparative diagnostics to determine if a new mutant's abilities were similar to those already catalogued. Cerebro also assessed the neo-mutants power level and attempted to chart his or her potential. It was a print out of this analysis that Xavier held in his hands now and studied speculatively.  
  
His primary concern was the level of power that had been attributed to the young man. Cerebro had projected the original power level of the new mutant to be high-Alpha class with the potential to outstrip nearly all the current mutanogenic signatures on the planet. At any age, too much power could be intoxicating, but at this adolescent phase, it could be devastating. Not only endangering the life of the young mutant, but that of the entire world. Charles tried to imagine a planet where his old friend Magnus passed along the Nietzche-like teachings to a young impressionable mind. Especially one with this considerable amount of raw power at his disposal. The mentor of the X-Men suppressed a shiver while he continued to regard the data.  
  
He turned his scrutiny upon the list of four names that comprised comparable energy signatures and their statistical probability of comparability. First on the list was the neo-mutant Dazzler, Alison Blaire, whom they had encountered recently. 2% positive identification. She was followed by Mastermind, Jason Wyngarde, 1% similarity. Finally, listed in a category entitled, Ability Employment, were Jean Grey and Erik Lensherr Magnus. Xavier pushed aside a stray thought that both Jean and Erik were poignant reminders of how much corruption absolute power could cause. He swore to himself that he would not allow such failures to happen. Not this time. And never again.  
  
He reproached himself for digressing and scratched his chin in thought. It was late and his mind was wandering as fatigue set in. Still he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He knew he was not too far away from understanding Mr. Darkmoon's abilities. In dealing with neo-mutants, Xavier found it necessary to be prepared for any eventuality. There was no telling how his offer of enrollment would be received. And considering their recent conflicts with the Inner Circle of the Hellfire Club, he had no way of know what sort of situation he and the X-Men might find themselves. Back to the task, Xavier, he reminded himself.  
  
Mutants were a rarity and the percentage of mutants exhibiting omega class potential were infinitesimal. What concerned him the most was the combination of the power level and the comparison of the neo-mutant to both Phoenix and Magneto. For the new mutant to be in a category with them, in terms of ability employment, meant that he had the psionic ability with an affinity for a particular type of energy carrier. Now considering the list of mutants Dazzler and Mastermind, Clayton Darkmoon was most likely not a pure psi, i.e. not a psychokinetic. Otherwise, only the Phoenix - Jean Grey - would have been listed.  
  
He sighed, contemplating the puzzle. With Cerebro able to ascertain less than 50% compatibility, there were a lot of things that mutant X could potentially do that were unknown to his computer's memory banks. And the list of talents that it did have that seemed to match were what? What was the commonality? He slammed his fist in frustration and pushed his wheel chair backwards away from his paper-strewn desk.  
  
Normally he enjoyed the challenge of trying to understand a new mutant's powers. It was this understanding that made him the perfect mentor for the X-Men. He could help guide or coach the team by teaching them how to better comprehend their own powers and pushing their limits for the good of mankind. But if he couldn't understand how they worked, he wouldn't be able to properly counsel them. Or develop countermeasures to said powers, should the need arise.  
  
Xavier turned his tired gaze upon the lamp, as if it held the answer to all his questions. Everything was a jumble. Images of Alison and Jean tumbled throughout his head battling Magneto and Mastermind. Fire lit the sky, brilliant patterns of lights, metal re-shaping itself, illusions.  
  
Both Magnus and Grey employed psionic energies to manipulate carrier particles. In the case of Magneto, these particles were magnetic-field specific. In the case of Phoenix, her carriers were pure-psi, not confined to a physicality. Which led him to believe that Darkmoon's powers were most likely confined to a unique physical carrier, but with such a broad specification . . . Xavier looked at the lamp once more as realization began to dawn on him. Like a photon.  
  
Xavier experienced an epiphany. Excitement roused him to full wakeness. Assuming that the physical carrier was a photon, that meant that Clayton could possibly manipulate the entire electromagnetic spectrum - which would explain the correlation to Dazzler and Mastermind. Both of the them utilized abilities that dealt with small parts of the EM spectrum. Supposing that Mr. Darkmoon was able to manipulate all the myriad forms of light, from cosmics rays to radio waves.? That would account for the relatively small percentage of comparable energy signatures of the other two mutants. However.that meant he was quite powerful indeed. And being new to his abilities meant that there was still room to grow.  
  
Light-based powers.Xavier mused. He wondered how much the young man had accomplished himself and what he had done with his abilities. Further, he wondered if he were correct in his hypothesis at all? He shook his head dispelling the thoughts and decided to focus on his assessment of the psychological state of Mr. Clayton Darkmoon, III.  
  
Their conversation had served a dual purpose. One to set up the interview for tomorrow so that he could introduce the young man to other mutants - people like himself with special abilities. The secondary objective was a little more nefarious, but a necessity. He needed to gauge the psychological health of the candidate. God help us all should any other mutant - let alone ones like Jean, Erik, or Clayton - be driven insane by their power, or have developed some malicious plan to wreak havoc upon the world.  
  
Clayton seemed quite at ease with himself, somewhat headstrong and overconfident. But not maligned towards anyone or anything. Ororo had concurred with this assessment. "He was quite pleasant to talk to," she'd said. "An absolute gentleman." She'd started to say something more, but held her tongue. And for once, Charles had not pressed, either verbally or telepathically. Something about the exchange had captured the young woman's attention.He wished he'd asked her, but it was late, and he wasn't going to wake her over a minor point. The team needed their rest for tomorrow's trip.  
  
Xavier organized his thoughts again and settled down for his least favorite part - transcribing his thoughts to notes to be filed for later. It was going to be another long night - as too many had been of late.  
  
* * * * *  
  
This story © 2001 Sherman L Taylor, II  
  
Clayton "Tres" Darkmoon © 2001 Sherman L Taylor, II  
  
The X-Men, Professor Charles Xavier, and all constituent  
  
characters © 2001 Marvel Comics Group.  
  
This story is not for sale and is not to be distributed without  
  
permission of the author.  
  
Please electronically mail comments to CommanderInChf@aol.com.  
  
All constructive criticism is appreciated. 


	3. Chapter 2: 'A' for Effort

Chapter 2  
  
'A' for Effort  
  
I waited patiently outside the University Center while the cold wind howled around me. I didn't really know what to expect. I didn't even know what type of car they'd be arriving in. I just assumed they'd know me.How? Who knew? I'd gotten the distinct impression from Professor Xavier that he left very little to chance. Today, though, I'd made sure I was prepared for what I assumed would be an interrogation - as opposed to the "interview", as he'd described it.  
  
Every time a car pulled into the turn-around, I jumped. I was a little excited. I'd told my parents about the interview and my mom seemed dubious, but she knew better than to try and stop me from doing something I wanted to do. She only asked that I investigate it properly and get lots of information. As I always did.  
  
While I waited, I began to wonder about the true nature of the meeting. Was it possible that someone had tracked me down because I was a mutant? Again? It seemed unlikely - I mean, I'd had my powers for over four years. I just hadn't used them in a long time. You're just being paranoid, I told myself. I was a good student. Xavier's was probably just like any other prestigious school interested in a qualified candidate to pursue higher learning. That sounded plausible. But it didn't quite silence that little, nagging, voice inside me.  
  
I looked down at myself one more time, just to be sure I looked all right. Tie was still straight, shirt un-wrinkled, pants still clean, I ran down my mental check list. Everything was good. I tucked my jacket around me tighter, trying to keep hypothermia from setting in. Although I was really too nervous to notice the cold that much. I felt like I had butterflies as big as ducks in my stomach.  
  
What was there to be anxious about really, I wondered. I tried to suppress the doubts. I'm going to go out, have a nice dinner with these people, learn as much as I can about this school and then come home and go right back to studying and fraternizing - basically being a regular college student.  
  
At 5:02 pm exactly, a sleek black sedan pulled up to the curb. The driver side door opened up and out stepped a tall, lean black woman. She was probably 21 or 22, and held her self with a regal grace that belied her age. Her hair was wrapped up in some type of intricate head-kerchief that looked both exotic and practical. She shut the door behind her and turned to look over the car. Her eyes came to rest upon me, and the corners of her mouth turned up in a glowing white smile. She began to walk unerringly towards me. *Gulp*  
  
"You are Clayton?" she stated. She was just a little taller than me, with blue eyes.and apparently white hair. I spied a few tresses escaping the confinement of her tight headdress.  
  
I hardly expected . . . I mean I knew from the accent . . . I somehow managed to keep from saying "Wow" as I greeted her. "Yes.You're Ororo?" I asked, unsure of myself.  
  
Her smile brightened. "Yes." We shook hands - her grip was firm. "A pleasure to meet you," she said.  
  
I relaxed a little. "Likewise, I'm sure," I replied.  
  
"Are you ready to leave?" she asked.  
  
"Uh - yes." I was once again off-balance. She nodded and lead me around to the driver's side of the car. I made an attempt at gallantry by opening her door for her, before climbing into the back seat. I got my first real look at the other two passengers in the car, whom I'd ignored upon Ororo's arrival. That wasn't the case once I sat down in the back seat.  
  
The front seat passenger just exuded this presence. While he didn't directly look at me, I had the distinct impression that he was studying me very hard.  
  
"Greetings Mr. Darkmoon. I am Charles Xavier. I'm quite pleased to have you with us today," he said, turning his head only slightly to acknowledge me.  
  
"Yes, Sir. It's good to meet you too." The Professor was the very model of his title. Strong, imposing, bald.with very penetrating blue eyes, not like Ororo's cat-like gaze. I felt like he could stare right through me. And probably had.  
  
"You've already had a chance to speak with Ororo Munroe," he continued. "This is one of my other students, Peter Rasputin," he said. I turned to Peter - whom I had only vaguely noticed when I got in the door.  
  
"Hello," I said, extending a hand. "I'm Clayton," I said, using my formal name.  
  
"Greetings, Comrade. A pleasure," he said, shaking my hand. His grip was preternaturally strong. Luckily - I don't think anything was broken. Peter looked like the bully type - big, strong, square jaw, kind of hulking. But his demeanor was just the opposite. I returned his pleasant, gentle smile with one of my own, before sitting back against the seat. I could see dinner was going to be quite a time.  
  
* * * * *  
  
We made it to the restaurant without incident. Poli's - in Pittsburgh. If you're ever in Pittsburgh, I'd recommend it. The service is good, the food is above average. The desserts are excellent. I'd made reservations to have a secluded booth for the four of us, per request of Professor Xavier. We had sat down at the table and it'd been quiet for a few moments. I was waiting for Xavier to take the lead in this little foray and used the time to study the menu.  
  
The waiter came and left with our food orders, removing my temporary defense by taking the menus with him. I took a drink of water and waited expectantly.  
  
"I appreciate you taking the time to meet with us," Professor Xavier said.  
  
I smiled. "It isn't every day recruiters from centers of higher learning set-up interviews like you did," I replied. In fact, I'd never heard of such a thing. I quickly dismissed that thought and focused back on the conversation.  
  
"And it's not every day that we encounter students with your academic prowess," he complimented me.  
  
"Thank you," I said graciously.  
  
"As I recall, you're a junior in Chemical Engineering," he said.  
  
"That's correct."  
  
"And you enjoy your studies?"  
  
"Well enough to consider going on to get my Ph D," I said. It was kind of boasting, but it usually drew a response from people.  
  
"That would be quite an accomplishment," Ororo said with no small amount of admiration. Professor Xavier nodded in agreement.  
  
"Ororo informs you've already selected several schools to which you're interested in applying to," he said.  
  
"Yes - we discussed it yesterday." My eyes flicked briefly to her then back at Xavier.  
  
"Attending the School for Gifted Youngsters could afford you an excellent addition to your applications," Professor Xavier said.  
  
I paused considering. "That would be something I would definitely take into consideration," I replied. I was going to say something else but the waiter arrived right then with the first course. The next few minutes our polite conversation was tabled in lieu of eating; we were all apparently quite hungry.  
  
Eating gave me an opportunity, however brief, to review.Professor Xavier was definitely taking the lead in all this. Ororo had ventured a few comments but Peter.he seemed a little reserved, almost shy. I sensed that he wanted to get into the conversation - and I certainly wanted him to join. He looked younger than me - probably 17 or 18. Regardless of what the Professor said, he and Ororo were the ones that I would rely upon the most to get the inside track on what the school was really like.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Throughout the rest of dinner, Professor Xavier questioned me at length about my scholastic records and what I wanted to do after school. He detailed the types of programs that I could participate in, the facilities that would be at my disposal and the connections I could make. Like it or not, Xavier knew how to play hardball and he used whatever abilities he had to subtly prove that my place was at his school.  
  
I had tried to draw Peter into the conversation, attempting to get he and Ororo to give me their opinions about the school. It was a direct and indirect tactic. My mother had taught me that how people said things was just as important as what they said. Ororo's answers had the ring of sincerity as did Peter's. I couldn't find fault in any of the information that they gave me.All in all, quite an impressive school. It sounded like it had been tailored to fit my every need.  
  
"You're quite a remarkable individual," Professor Xavier said. We were enjoying dessert now, and I sipped a cappucino and savored a rich piece of chocolate cake. "Exactly the type of student that we can appreciate at the School."  
  
"Thank you, Professor," I said. "You've got a lot to offer." Now here comes the first stage of rejection, I thought to myself. "However.I'm not quite clear on what it is about your school that really distinguishes it from say Stanford or M.I.T. or Cornell," I said. I was posturing really. Full scholarship to an accredited program was exactly what I wanted.I just got the impression that this wasn't exactly the school I really needed to attend. I don't know. It was more of a hunch. I hated to be negative when they'd gone to great lengths to research my background and come to Pittsburgh to meet with me.  
  
The Professor favored me with a small knowing smile. "You're an intelligent young man, Mr. Darkmoon. Surely you understand that you are quite unique when compared to the average college student," he said. It was more of a challenge than flattery.  
  
I frowned. "You mean because of my age," I bluffed. My heart started to pound a little faster.  
  
He merely shook his head. "No, young man. Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters focuses on providing an environment for youths such as yourself to develop and hone their special abilities," he said. My frown only deepened when he said that. I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. He's on to me, I thought.  
  
"I am sure I don't know what you're referring to. I'm no more intelligent or different than the average college kid," I pretended. "And I certainly don't have any special abilities." I tried to lie. It bothered me that I had to do it, especially since I'd only recently vowed not to be ashamed of my mutancy.  
  
But then, is it really a lie.if I have to do it? If the people hearing it don't want to hear the truth? And the only thing that would appease them was 'the lie'? I shook my head - a debate for another time. I folded my hands in my lap and waited for them to make the next move. I tried to plaster on a face of bored disinterest, maintaining a calm exterior. But I couldn't quite stop tapping my left foot in anticipation.  
  
Xavier and Ororo exchanged a glance. "You have heard of the X-Men, have you not?" she asked, taking over the conversation.  
  
"Yes," I said, feeling my pulse quicken even more. Everyone had heard of the X-Men by now. Most people feared them. They didn't have the best reputation; destruction seemed to follow in their wake.  
  
"The X-Men are mutants gifted with powers that set them apart from the rest of society," she said. "Mutants like yourself," she continued, giving me a knowing look. Our table was set off from the majority of the patrons, giving us relative privacy. That was for the best, considering what they'd do if they knew what was transpiring only a few feet away.  
  
"I see," I said. So they knew. I sucked in a deep breath through my nose. I wanted to jump up and down in frustration. I wanted to *zap* everyone in the restaurant. I wanted to leave. I certainly did not want to be caught. I exhaled slowly and banished all those crazy scenarios that sprang to mind.  
  
"You're the X-Men," I accused them, making the quantum leap. Ororo nodded once and I observed Peter studying me speculatively. "I see," I said again. I really wanted 'to see' later on.by myself. Instead of here, eating dinner and discussing superheroing as casually as one would discuss the politics. This was a trap, I thought to myself. One big elaborate trap. And I fell right into it. Sheesh! I should have listened to my mother and stayed in my dorm room and studied.  
  
"We did not come here to trap you, Mr. Darkmoon," Professor Xavier said. I turned my scrutiny upon him. "We come only to offer you a place where you can explore the limits of your mutant nature with individuals like yourself. To protect you."  
  
"Protection from what?" I asked sharply. I began to develop a vague suspicion about Professor Xavier's 'mutant nature'.  
  
He leaned forward only slightly on the table. The gesture was not lost upon me - he had something of extreme importance to tell me. "There are people in the world motivated by fear. Fear of what they do not and can not understand. In their ignorance they will attempt to destroy what is beyond their comprehension. This is one reason I have gathered together the X-Men. To help train them in the use of their powers, so that they can defend themselves against a society that hates and despises them for simply being born."  
  
"And another reason?" I asked.  
  
"To foster and promote mutant and non-mutant relations, so that one day humanity may be healed of its bigotry," he said simply.  
  
I arched one blond eyebrow at him. "You want to reshape the world, then?" I queried.  
  
"To make it better," he said. "To make it safe for mutants and non- mutants. You of all people should recognize the importance of such an action. Was not a student recently beaten to death at the University of Pittsburgh? For being a mutant?"  
  
"Suspected mutant," I replied, harsher than I intended. I was thrilled and dismayed at the same time. I'd only had contact with a handful of other mutants in my life and it hadn't been ideal. Part of me wanted to relax and trust these three strangers, revel in the fact that I was no longer alone in the world. There were others like me! But I didn't dare let my guard down. Not yet. I tried to keep all these thoughts inside - maintain a cool outlook. I would have had better luck trying to hold back the tide.  
  
"You're agitated," Xavier stated evenly. The way he said it made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. He spoke with such assurance, it bordered on arrogance.  
  
"You're a telepath," I guessed, confident in my assessment of his abilities. His eyes widened slightly, but he nodded. I'd been around another empath before and she'd always evoked the same 'hair-raising' reaction from me.  
  
"Very astute of you, Mr. Darkmoon." Even under the circumstances, I glowed under the praise. I turned from him to the young African woman sitting to his left.  
  
"What can you do?" I asked with no subtlety.  
  
Ororo opened her mouth to reply. In fact I am sure she did say something. However, her voice was drowned out by several pairs of sonic booms. This was followed by several small "earthquakes" that rocked the restaurant, causing the diners to look up in alarm.  
  
I looked up at the ceiling in puzzlement already reaching out with my scanning power. What kind of plane would be coming in that close? And an earthquake? In Pittsburgh . . . ? "By the Bright Lady," I swore softly as my powers locked in on something.  
  
-End Part 1-  
  
* * * * *  
  
This story © 2001 Sherman L Taylor, II  
  
Clayton "Tres" Darkmoon © 2001 Sherman L Taylor, II  
  
The X-Men, Professor Charles Xavier, and all constituent  
  
characters © 2001 Marvel Comics Group.  
  
This story is not for sale and is not to be distributed without  
  
permission of the author.  
  
Please electronically mail comments to CommanderInChf@aol.com.  
  
All constructive criticism is appreciated. 


	4. Chapter 3: Case of the 'X'

Chapter 3  
  
Case of the 'X'  
  
"Tres? Clayton?" I heard Ororo say, concerned. But my mind was elsewhere. My tracking power had picked up a trio of giants landing close by. Even as I was turning to look in that direction, the ceiling was being torn off the restaurant.  
  
The roof sort of lifted up and fell in at the same time as large robotic fingers pried it away from the walls. There was a terrific crash as the structural integrity of the ceiling gave way and the clear night sky became visible. And then staring down upon us, like we were just insects or lab rats, were three of the largest things I'd ever seen. They had to have been at least a fifty feet tall, maybe more. Their red eyes seemed to glow with an unnatural hatred. I 'felt' them scanning the entire crowd before settling their gaze upon me.  
  
[Mutant X - targeted. Acquisition imminent,] the deep mechanical voice of the 'leader' declared. I flashed suddenly on Europe.four years ago. I shook my head to clear the ominous vision from my sight as I tried to focus on the present. A pit of dread formed in my stomach and I couldn't suppress a shiver. They were after me.  
  
"By the Goddess," I heard Ororo state behind me in that instant of stunned silence.  
  
Then everything erupted in chaos.  
  
People began screaming, running in terror, trying to hide from the five story-tall robots. At the same time, the sky darkened ominously and the wind picked up.  
  
They looked almost like giant transformers. Purple and red and definitely menacing. I knew they were after me. They'd said 'mutant X' and 'acquisition' two terms I definitely did not want to associate together. I started to reach out with my power preparatory to getting the heck out of there, when Professor Xavier began issuing orders.  
  
"Storm, Colossus - we must not allow them to capture Mr. Darkmoon or harm the public. I will summon the other X-Men. Mr. Darkmoon - remain here," he said to me over the cacophony. I shook my head in disbelief. I simply could not comprehend the fact that this was happening. However, I had little time to dwell on that - too many other things were going on.  
  
Ororo changed. As I said - the winds had picked up considerably. And they were all but howling around our little group. Ororo's clothing, her modest blouse and full length skirt, were replaced by black thigh-high boots and combat-ready spandex. Her headwrap was gone too, revealing a full mane of lustrous white hair that was whipping around in the sudden breeze. She lifted off into the air, her eyes fading from blue to pure white.  
  
Peter, too, had changed. A crackle of energy made me look in his direction. The tall good-natured Russian was replaced by a big living metallic being. And I mean big. He gave me a quick nod, before he followed Ororo into the fray, punching a huge hole through the wall and striding confidently out into the street.  
  
"They're after me," I said aloud, but only the Professor was left to listen to me. And I doubt even he could have heard me over the crackle of lightning and the boom of thunder that sounded or the crashing of dishes and the panicked screams.  
  
[I apologize for the interruption,] Professor Xavier replied. [As Storm - Ororo - was saying her abilities extend to the realm of weather control; she can create any naturally occurring meteorological phenomenon. As you no doubt can witness,] he thought to me, indicating the pitch black clouds overhead. [Colossus - Peter's - abilities are just as obvious. We are all mutants - hated.feared by the general populace for a small genetic difference. We recognize your newly acquired mutant powers and have come to invite you to study in environment where your talents can be used to benefit all of mankind,] he thought calmly. As if the world weren't being turned upside down only a few feet from us.  
  
[My powers aren't new,] I stated coolly while the battle began in earnest in the street. I watched in amazement as Ororo - Storm - hurled lightning from her airborne vantage at one of the mechanical monstrosities. White bolts of jagged energy leapt from her hands, burning and melting internal circuitry and felling the thing. Peter - Colossus - was having equal success with his foe; he tore the foot off of a second, crippling it. But even as two fell, a second team of four landed. One aimed a hand-blaster at Ororo and fired. Her back was to the thing, her attention was focused on one its metallic brothers. She didn't see it -  
  
"No! Ororo!" I shouted, once again flashing back in time to... I snapped back to the present, the parallelism of the two scenarios had struck me like a physical blow. But today was not to be a repeat of that haunting scene. At the last possible second, Ororo turned aside, dodging the blow that might have killed her. She managed to use her powers to destroy another of our attackers. But that still left four fully operational ones, and one damaged one on the street.  
  
The X-Men were outnumbered.  
  
I'd only been in a few fights like this before. So to say I had little combat experience was an understatement. Still, that didn't mean I couldn't help.  
  
[You must remain here, Mr. Darkmoon. For your own safety.] the Professor said, or thought rather, to me.  
  
[I can take care of myself,] I snapped at him, lifting off the ground. Ororo, Peter - what if they got hurt? It was just the two of them against five. At least if I joined in, I might be able to help them. Together, the three of us... I paused. That situation was all too familiar.three against overwhelming odds. I blanched, trying to keep my dinner down.  
  
[But what of the people that do not have your abilities? What of the non- mutants?] he asked, his hands steepled in front of him. He regarded me with a speculative glance. I realized he meant the people trapped in the remnants of the restaurant, that were going to be hurt or killed by the collapsing ceiling. But I wouldn't - I couldn't let Ororo and Peter fight alone.? But then what of Professor Xavier? His telepathy was, as far as I knew, a non-physical form of mutant powers. I doubted he would survive a fight or capture.  
  
[I understand, Professor.] Perhaps the X-Men could handle themselves. But they couldn't worry about the people, Professor Xavier included, and trying to stop those robots.  
  
[Very good, Mr. Darkmoon,] Professor Xavier said, pleased with my action. I had little time to appreciate his praise.  
  
[But what about Ororo and Peter?] I asked, concerned. He communicated to me that Storm and Colossus would be able to handle themselves until the rest of the team arrived. Specifically guys named Wolverine, Nightcrawler, and Angel. He reassured me that the situation was well under control, but that didn't make me any less anxious.  
  
I watched as Ororo finished off another one - this time, freezing the behemoth in a micro-blizzard. Meanwhile Colossus hurled a VW Bug at a second foe with such force that the car went partially into its chest. The collision knocked his combatant over, toppling a power line in the process. There was a large *ZAP* of electricity and then the entire block shorted out and was dark.  
  
That was two more down, but three were still left. I was just starting to think we'd do all right when another team of robots landed nearby. This squad consisted of a half a dozen of the things. Okay.now we're definitely in over our head. However, they ignored Colossus and Storm, whose teamwork had kept the rest of the robots occupied for the time being. They instead turned to face the restaurant.  
  
[Target, Mutant X, in sight. Acquisition imminent. Initiating stun protocol,] one of them said. It lifted it hands slowly, palms pointed at me and prepared to fire twin laser blasts. I 'sensed' rather than saw the lasers before they left its hands.  
  
I didn't know what those stun rays would feel like and frankly, I didn't really want to find out so . . . I turned and ran, taking my remaining dinner guest with me. I lifted the Professor right out of his wheel chair and together we flew away from the blast. Pretty, heroic, right? Right.I told myself. I darted away from our table, making a run right back towards our attacker. I felt the Professor's hands instinctively grab my arms in a tight grip.  
  
We zipped through the battle and away leaving Storm and Colossus to deal with the group. With my scanning power I essentially had eyes in the back of my head, so I knew we were being pursued. Even if I wanted to make a stand, I couldn't. Not burdened with the Professor in my arms.  
  
"What about the rest of the X-Men?" I asked, shifting suddenly to the right, evading an energy blast. I turned and headed skyward, trying to put a few buildings between me and the death-bots.  
  
"They have arrived. Angel, Wolverine, and Nightcrawler are acting on our behalf. If you would be so kind as to ferry me to the Blackbird. From there, I can supervise the proceedings and guide the X-Men," he said calmly. [I will relay the location of the Blackbird,] he thought. He transmitted mental images of the sleek black jet to me and a map of sorts; he used his telepathy like I used my scanning ability. I locked very quickly onto the plane's location and made a beeline for it.  
  
Only a few more laser blasts kept me from making a direct route to the X- Men's plane. It had been set down at the corner of Murray and Forbes Avenue, several blocks away from the main conflict. There were no passengers on board when we landed but the port door was left open. I flew through it, carrying the Professor to the pilot's seat and helping him into the chair. "Are they doing okay?" I asked after he had gotten comfortable in the seat.  
  
"My X-Men are outnumbered 2 - to - 1," he said. His attention was obviously focused on the pitched battle the mutant team of outlaws was waging with these so-called-Sentinels. His brow furrowed in mild confusion. "The Sentinels seem to be, for the most part, ignoring the X- Men, which makes it easier for them to be destroyed. It isn't until the X- Men become an obstacle that the Sentinels are targeting them."  
  
"Okay." I didn't need an clarification on that statement. If the Sentinels were ignoring the X-Men.then they were most certainly after me.  
  
"Storm and the others are doing their best to keep them from us." he said. He had a far-off look in his eyes, one I'd seen before. There was another far off *BOOM*, as if something heavy were falling, followed by the tinkle of glass and car alarms. I took it to mean another Sentinel was down. Professor Xavier smiled - more out of than pleasure. "They are slowly evening the odds," he explained. "Storm has erected a corral of sorts," he said after another minute. I tried to imagine the X-Men forming a defensive line against their fifty-foot opponents in something resembling a football game. The thought would have actually been funny had the situation not been dire. Another *BOOM*, this one closer to us, jarred me back to the present.  
  
"They are slowly moving near to us." Professor Xavier confirmed my suspicion. Several more earth-moving booms corroborated that the X-Men were doing well against the mutant-hunting robots. But the last one was close enough that the windows had rattled in the building across the street. "They are quite close," Professor Xavier said, before the loud rumble of thunder drowned us out for a moment. That's when I decided to take a peek myself.  
  
I reached out with my scanning power then, to get my own perspective on the battle. They were right on top of us.less than two blocks away. At this rate, the X-Men and the Sentinels would be here in a matter of minutes.assuming there was anyone left from the latter group.  
  
I was more than a little concerned for the X-Men. I guess they do this kind of thing all the time.but not me. I'm just a college student. Their whole world . . . the fighting, people out to 'acquire' you, it was all pretty alien to me. It was just so unbelievable that mutant "crime- fighters" were acting on my behalf. I looked down at the Professor sitting in the pilot's seat.  
  
His thoughts were elsewhere.he was paying little attention to the goings-on in his immediate vicinity. You won't notice if I sneak away, will you? I wondered, lifting a few inches off the ground. It wasn't fair for me to put him or the X-Men in danger. The Sentinels were, after all, looking for me. Before he could register my thoughts, I was out the door and heading back to the fight.  
  
I felt his presence in my mind again, but I concentrated and forced myself not to listen to the telepathic summons. I made my way back to the battle scene. My plan was a simple one. I'd have to get the attention of the remaining Sentinels long enough to get them away from the X-Men. No one else would be hurt because of my inability to act.  
  
I didn't have too long to wait. The fray was indeed quite close to the Blackbird. Once I began flying back towards the remains of the restaurant, the Sentinels had no further need to track me down. I was coming to them.  
  
There were at least a half-a-dozen pairs of lifeless blood-red eyes on me as I came into view. I made sure to fly low - about 40 feet up - so I would be seen by all. I flew right into the center of the melee, deliberately baiting the Sentinels. I suppose I should have had some witty rejoinder to make but I was pretty new to all this.Instead, I let out a bright sun burst - sort of a 'Hey - Come and get me!' - and then shot straight up into the air.  
  
The Sentinel's program was to find me. Once presented with their target on a silver platter, so to speak, they forgot all about the X-Men. En masse, they lifted off and began to give chase. Whoever made them, made these things well, because before I knew it, they were upon me. However, this time, they only had one target to focus on.Me.  
  
I reached out with my scanning power, ready to move at the slightest indication of fire. I even managed to dodge the first few blasts. But there were five of the things following in my wake - each one armed with its own weapons system. Soon the air was full of enemy fire and I was twisting and turning as best I could. Quickly enough, though, my luck ran out and I caught a blast in the side.  
  
I was quite surprised when I felt the beam go.not really through me, but into me. I felt a sudden burst of adrenaline and clarity of thought as my senses were brought to heightened level of awareness. But while I was reveling in my newfound immunity, one of them caught up with me and snatched me out of the air.  
  
Cold metallic fingers wrapped around my body. And began to squeeze. I freaked - just plain wigged out - when that giant hand formed a cage around me. All charged up from the blast and the chase, I overreacted.  
  
Over the past few nights, I'd begun to wonder if my powers and my emotions were linked. Tonight, I no longer had cause to doubt; there was definitely a correlation between emotional intensity and the power level I exhibited. With my powers on, I generated a powerful close-to-the-skin heat shield. By consciously reinforcing it, I can make the shield thicken at a controlled rate. However, in the heat of moment, and under duress, I didn't try to control it, I just released.  
  
The hand and part of the forearm burned clear off the Sentinel. Fingers flew away from me as I tried to 'shrug' off the hand, instead spattering slag onto the city below. I thought I heard someone calling to me from far away, but the wind carried away the voice. I hung there in mid-air, dumbfounded for an instant. It was a critical moment that I should have used to make a hasty escape . . .  
  
My lack of combat experienced showed itself right then as I watched the Sentinel numbly. The Sentinel, probably designed to respond with the appropriate amount of force to detain its target mutant, swung at me with its good hand. *THWAP* It swatted me out of the air like a fly!  
  
I went tumbling head over heels into the ground . . . far, far below. My radar sense kept me from experiencing true vertigo, but I had a hard time getting my bearings and then slowing my momentum. And while I was easily a mile above the ground, I'd been hit with enough force to cover that distance in a matter of seconds.  
  
I tore through a small building, leaving a smoking hole as I burned/broke through the ceiling and then one more floor to come crashing down into the basement. I lay there stunned for a moment by the sheer absurdity of it all. A large one handed robot had knocked me from the sky and I'd landed in the basement of some little office building. Good.what next? I kicked a mop off me, pushed a bucket away, and got unsteadily to my feet. I shook my head to clear the cob webs, thankful, that I'd have a moment to breathe.  
  
As fate would have it, my breathing room was about as long as a New York minute. Several pairs of sonic booms alerted me to my plight even before my radar sense picked up on them. Large *thump thump* noises indicated their landing nearby and I realized I was cornered. Again.  
  
Per their M.O., the Sentinels tore the building apart, decimating the squat office to get at me. I lifted off the ground, intending to fly right by them, but I was surrounded and they were too fast for me. This time, instead of an open palm, a solid metal fist connected with me. *WHAM* The world exploded in pain. I rolled through the air, darkness threatening to overtake my senses. I can't lose consciousness now, I thought.  
  
I impacted a wall, leaving a body-shaped imprint in the hard, rough brick before falling to the ground below. Luckily, the force of the collisions jolted me back to semi-consciousness. I tried to push myself back to a half-standing position but collapsed back onto my knees, breathing hard. I will not let these things beat me, I thought. "I won't!" Just have to get away - breathe normally.I thought, summoning the power to lift me to the sky. I faltered a moment and slipped back to a half-kneeling position. Perfect timing to run proverbially out of 'gas'.  
  
Just then, Ororo came winging in to the fight, like a glowing guardian angel. She landed next to me with the gentlest of breezes. "Come, Tres," she said reassuringly. "You need not face the Sentinels alone." She reached down, and with a strength that belied her slender form, pulled me to my feet.  
  
I shook my head. "Run Ororo. Get out of here," I panted. I was still struggling to force air back into my lungs.  
  
"The X-Men are your allies, Tres," she said firmly. "Come. Together we can overcome --" Whatever she was going to say was suddenly lost as the wall behind us exploded, showering cement and debris everywhere. I coughed and hacked, trying to clear the dust from my throat. But then a light wind rose, blowing it away - probably Storm's doing, I thought, between wheezes.  
  
[Surrender, mutants. Acquisition protocol level 2 initiated,] one of the Sentinels declared. It was surrounded by its four robotic brethren. Ororo and I both looked up, yet she remained decidedly neutral about the obvious threat they posed. Ororo, half supported me with one hand, then raised her free arm to the lead robot. At the same time she shoved me backwards and away from danger. I tripped and stumbled, rolled a few feet, then lay still.  
  
I propped myself up on my elbows in a half laying position. Spots were dancing before my eyes and I could barely concentrate enough to stay awake, let alone mount a defense. I observed Storm through heavily lidded eyes as she prepared to defend us both. She pointed her hands at the first of the Sentinels, calling upon the Bright Lady to preserve us both - or something to that effect. The heavens seemed to open up above us and there was a flash of lightning that I could feel more than see. Then inky blackness swallowed me for a second.  
  
I awoke to the hissing *zap zap* of laser fire. A grunt of pain and the *thunk* sound of a body impacting the ground beside me brought me back to consciousness. I saw Ororo lying face down on the ground, a few feet away. No, I thought in denial, fear and anger giving me the strength to push on. I dragged myself over to her, my mouth full of dust. I wrinkled my nose at the scent of ozone and singed flesh. My vision swam out of focus, an old memory overlaying the present. And . . . I saw . . . the charred remains of her clothes, the singed hair that was now curling to black. I fumbled around trying to find a pulse.She was lying so still.I couldn't feel her heart beating.Prickly bile began to rise in my throat.  
  
I sat back on my hands and knees as memories began to rise unbidden to my mind. [Surrender mutant. Termination protocols have been initiated,] a cold automated voice declared. Echoes of the past reached up from the grave, twisting the words. I looked at her still, battered form, one more time and then slowly turned my gaze upon the Sentinels.  
  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
This story © 2001 Sherman L Taylor, II  
  
Clayton "Tres" Darkmoon © 2001 Sherman L Taylor, II  
  
The X-Men, Professor Charles Xavier, and all constituent  
  
characters © 2001 Marvel Comics Group.  
  
This story is not for sale and is not to be distributed without  
  
permission of the author.  
  
Please electronically mail comments to CommanderInChf@aol.com.  
  
All constructive criticism is appreciated. 


	5. Chapter 4: Trouble with a Capital 'T'

Chapter 4  
  
Trouble with a Capital 'T'  
  
The Sentinels mocked me with their evil maniacal laughter, taunted me. I heard their voices in my head - blaming, accusing . . . I felt the hot tendrils of guilt tearing at my heart. So much guilt - I looked at Ororo's still form beside me.My vision blurred and I saw burned blond tresses and slightly aristocratic features where Storm's had been. It wasn't my fault. I told her to run, but she wouldn't listen! I tried to save her! I did the best that I could! I thought. It wasn't until the sound of my own voice came back to me that I realized my anguished cries had been aloud.  
  
I lifted into the air, then, a cold stillness washing over me. I forced the darkness to retreat as I pulled power to me - surrounding myself in a thick blue-white heat shield and letting the light spill across the entire city.  
  
Then I gestured, releasing a shock wave of roiling energy from my body. It tore through front runner of the gang standing before me and I watched as it's head just simply disappeared and with it, the arrogant sneer on its face. The body wobbled unsteadily for a moment, then crumpled to its knees, finally falling backwards onto the street.  
  
I felt my power fading and my stomach rising in protest. I saw them begin to respond in kind, palms once more rising to fire. Gotta finish the job, I thought doggedly. But I couldn't even maintain my flight. Slowly, I began to sink towards the ground, my final reserves of energy drained. I nerved myself for the killing blow. But, it never came; they began to fall of their own accord.struck down.by something else.  
  
I had little time to contemplate the victory, though. The ground was rushing up to meet me, and this time I didn't think I'd survive the fall - not without my powers. Suddenly, I was buffeted by large gusts of wind and a noise reminiscent of giant birds' wings. Then I felt hands - strong and sure - firmly gripping my shoulders, holding me aloft, hoisting me towards a nearby roof. "We" set down gently - having something solid beneath my feet brought back a measure of reality. I turned, to say thanks, but felt my knees buckling. I fell, but hands around my waist held me, trying to keep me up.  
  
"Are you all right, kid?" a disembodied voice asked me. Then there was nothing as darkness swallowed me once more.  
  
* * * * *  
  
In her peripheral vision, Storm saw Tres come wheeling into the middle of their conflict, his body aglow with a soft cerulean light. She finished off the Sentinel that Wolverine had sliced open, sending an electric current through it's now vulnerable circuitry, shorting out its systems. Even as the thing fell, Storm was turning towards him, ready to order him back to the Blackbird, where he could be safe and the X-Men could continue this conflagration without being hampered by the assistance of a neo- mutant.  
  
Then there was a blinding flash of light that seemed to burn into her brain. She turned her face away from Tres' visual display and waited patiently for her vision to clear. Storm's light colored eyes gave her a heightened sensitivity to light and it was a few moments before she could see without spots dancing in front of her eyes.  
  
"Cripes, kid!" Wolverine swore, blinking his own eyes, confirming the fact that rest of the X-Men were no better off than she.  
  
By the time her vision had cleared, Tres was gone, racing through the night sky, leaving a trail of blue-white energy in his wake. And the Sentinels were lifting off the ground to give chase.  
  
"Wolverine, Colossus, Nightcrawler, regroup at the Blackbird with the Professor. Angel - you and I shall follow by air," she ordered. The winds around her picked her up from the ground, carrying her aloft. "This battle is far from over," she vowed, before following in the wake of the Sentinels.  
  
Angel was soon at her side, his large white wings pushing him along, keeping up with her as they tried to catch the elusive Sentinels. Storm concentrated, manipulating the energy patterns that only she could see, calling forth a tremendous stroke of lightning to fell their nearest opponent. Pittsburgh was a rainy city, a fact that made it easier to summon the naturally occurring phenomenon. There was an ominous rumble of thunder, then a bolt of jagged white energy reached down from the sudden cloud cover. With deadly accuracy, the recently named leader of the X-Men incapacitated the straggling member of the six remaining Sentinels. The large robot went crashing down to the ground, destroying several buildings before it came to rest, battered and broken on the street.  
  
However, even as her strategy destroyed one, the other five maneuvered Tres into a position with their laser fire. Storm watched as they neared him, oblivious to their tactics. A stun blast caught him in the side, and he stopped, mid-air out of surprise. It was that moment of indecisiveness that allowed them to entrap him. "Tres," Storm said, more to herself than anyone else.  
  
They were hundreds of yards apart from the half dozen beings. But both Storm and Angel kept their eyes locked upon Tres as one of the Sentinels grabbed him out of the air. This proved to be a tactical error on the part of the red-and-purple robot. Tres responded poorly to being captured; his body erupted, once more, with light and heat.  
  
"Not again," Angel grumbled as the pair of X-Men was blinded..again. This time they had both reacted quickly enough to shield their eyes. Having experienced the blinding burst of power before they were better prepared to recover from it. However, turning once more back to the battle, they witnessed a now one-handed Sentinel batting a prone Tres out of the air.  
  
"We shall divide. Sweep low to the ground, Angel, and move towards Tres. I will attain a higher altitude to gain a better perspective on situation," Storm said. Angel nodded, tucking his wings and diving low towards the ground. Simultaneously, Ororo rose, arcing above the Sentinels, preparing to strike again. However, the Sentinels all but ignored her, instead re- orienting on Tres, following him down to the street. Storm pursued.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Professor Xavier telepathically observed his students and their roles in the ensuing skirmish. He was disheartened by the course of events that Tres had set in motion but had confidence that the X-Men would be able to adequately handle the situation.  
  
Storm remained fully cognizant of Tres' predicament, blinded though she was. As field commander, her leadership skills had vastly improved over the past few months. She had grown very quickly into the role, honing her natural abilities.The position suited her, Charles thought, as he 'watched' her organize the X-Men, sending the land-bound members back to the Blackbird, while she and Angel followed by air.  
  
He had, at first, felt inclined to make several suggestions to their course of action, but then reconsidered. He reined his natural tendencies in, to see how this new team of X-Men would operate without the experience of the veteran 'first generation' to guide them. Having only been on the field by herself once before, Storm could do without my judgment, he thought to himself. She's performing well without my intrusion. Even with the unstable and unpredictable actions of Clayton Darkmoon.  
  
He should've seen this coming, though. He shouldn't have been so preoccupied with the plight of his students that he ignored the turmoil that was going on within Tres. He could have easily 'commandeered' his thoughts but that was a last ditch measure that he would exercise only in extreme circumstances. Such circumstances had not arisen . . . yet.  
  
Charles began the pre-flight check as Nightcrawler, Wolverine, and Colossus neared. He focused his attention on Angel and Storm as they intercepted the Sentinels that had cornered Tres. Storm dispatched one, but the resulting interplay left Charles staggering from the myriad sensations that assaulted his senses. He quickly threw up a mental shield as vertigo swept through his mind, giving him an uncomfortable sense of motion sickness. He shifted the battle away from the forefront of his mind as three of the X- Men clamored on board.  
  
"Ready for take-off, Charley?" Wolverine said gruffly, sliding into the co- pilot's seat. Colossus and Nightcrawler strapped themselves in as the Professor began the departure procedures.  
  
Charles tabled his annoyance at the ridiculous nickname that Wolverine insisted on using and instead focused on getting the plane into the air. He was busying formulating a plan, when Ororo's thoughts came to him. [Professor - I am nearing Tres' position. He appears to be badly hurt,] she thought to him, mild concern accompanying the empathic message.  
  
[I understand Storm. Be careful,] he thought back to her, masking his own emotions from her. Although he already knew she was being anything but.Separating from Angel, approaching the fallen mutant from a vector that left her exposed in numerous ways. It did, however, let Storm arrive at his side more rapidly, but with scant protection.  
  
"Herr Professor? How are Storm and Angel faring?" Kurt asked from his seat. Charles focused on his words for a second then turned his attention back on the missing members of their party.  
  
"Storm and Angel - have not come to harm." Yet, he thought. Would he ever stop worrying about his students, Charles wondered. How many battles had they been through? How many times have their lives been in danger? And how many more times would they continue to fight the 'good fight'? Those thoughts and others flooded his mind as the Blackbird lifted off from the ground.  
  
"Wolverine, take the controls," Charles said. "I'll need to focus my attention on Storm, Angel, and Clayton."  
  
"You're the boss, Chuck," Wolverine replied nonchalantly. The headmaster for The School of Gifted Youngsters ground his teeth in frustration. However, he had little time to correct Wolverine and instead sank within himself as he began to 'see' the world telepathically.  
  
Charles reached out, touching the three minds, shutting out all else - the indigenous minds of the Pittsburgh-ians that were nearby. He strengthened the rapport he maintained with all his students, keeping close contact on the physiological status of Storm and Angel. But when he came into contact with Clayton's mind, he only 'observed'. He didn't want to intrude on the privacy of the young man's mind. Such a violation could damage any possible trust that may develop between them. However, Clayton's emotional state was so disordered, that a telepathic tranquilizer might soon be the only recourse soon available to him.  
  
Clayton Darkmoon had evinced little alarm when they were initially attacked, but Charles had felt his mind shift backwards to the past; he was obviously reliving some painful memory. He didn't bother to delve much farther than that. And as the young man was slapped around, tearing through one building and knocked into another, his own mind reeled with hurt and confusion. He firmed his defenses, slightly detaching himself from the source and sent a telepathic forecast to Storm and Angel. He waited and watched as Storm made her way to his side.  
  
She didn't get the chance to help, though. Cornered, several of the Sentinels attacked the leader of the X-Men; a bolt of energy knocked her unconscious. He [felt] the resulting pain of the stun beam and was immediately thankful that the Sentinels were sent to incapacitate and not destroy his beloved X-Men! And then he [felt] the impact, the sting of gravel and concrete, as she hit the pavement, then nothing . . . Through his mind-link he knew that Storm was unconscious, but not dead.  
  
From Clayton, Charles felt the internal battle, struggling against desperation, denying fear when the Sentinels cornered both he and Storm. Again Charles felt his mind time slip. It was like Clayton was caught in a dream state, his memories overlaying the scene at hand. Instead of seeing Ororo, he saw.a young blond female, her burned body lying beside him. And when Clayton thought her dead, his mind exploded in chaos and pain.  
  
"No!" the young man roared, his tormented cry piercing the sky, seeming to reverberate around the city. There was a flash of blue-white light that dazzled the eye. Charles watched as a waving corona of flames grew up and outward, surrounding Clayton in a beautiful cocoon of translucent energy. The young man gained altitude until he was eye-level with the Sentinels. Wolverine pulled the Blackbird up close to a rooftop and engaged the hover mode while the remaining X-Men prepared to re-join the fight.  
  
Colossus and Wolverine made their way to the door while Nightcrawler retrieved something from one of the storage lockers. Opening the hatch door, the two X-Men jumped the short distance to the building below and Nightcrawler teleported down with . . . explosives? Charles immediately understood his intention and had the circumstances not been so extreme, he would have smiled at his ingenuity. But the situation was extreme.  
  
The mentor of the X-Men watched from the Blackbird as Tres released a powerful burst of blue-white energy. The rolling flames expanded outward from his body in a half-donut shape and swept through one of the Sentinels like it wasn't even there. He turned away, momentarily blinded by the brilliant discharge. He turned to look back, less than a minute later, waiting for his vision to clear. What he saw gave him cause to both fear and appreciate the young man's abilities.  
  
The Sentinel has been decapitated.No, that wasn't right. The head was simply gone. Fused circuitry was exposed from the charred and blackened neck. The rest of its body - what was left of it - was covered in molten goo that reminded him of mercury. He deduced it was the remains of the head, the slag that was left over from the heat wave Clayton had released. There was a moment of deafening silence, and then the headless robot began to fall. Like a fifty-foot tall domino, it toppled over, crushing buildings, cars, and lampposts. The sound of thousands of tons of metal colliding with concrete echoed for miles around.  
  
Charles relayed a thought to Angel. The winged man agreed, giving the still airborne Clayton Darkmoon a wide berth as he moved in close to Storm. The young man hovered defiantly, a radiant figure in the now-quiet night.  
  
Such was the fury that Tres felt, that Charles had at first been hesitant to reach out with his mind to attempt to soothe his turbulent thoughts. He quickly overcame his initial shock at the mutant's psychological state and reached out with what he hoped would be a calming touch to his agitated mind. He sensed that the worst of Tres' emotional frenzy was over though, and that the college student was becoming lucid of the destruction he had wrought.  
  
It was like someone had snuffed out a candle, Charles thought in retrospect. No sooner had he contacted Clayton telepathically, than did both the light and his mind simply wink out. Clayton Darkmoon plummeted to the street below. Charles only had a second to warn Angel, but years of training gave them an advantage that belied speed. Warren, having been keeping an eye on Tres while recovering Ororo, moved into position. He caught the young mutant in his arms. Charles sighed his relief, telepathically and verbally.  
  
There was one advantage to Clayton's outburst; he drew the attention of the Sentinel's to him. His X-Men moved into position and finished off the rest of the Sentinels - swiftly and efficiently. Charles relaxed as yet another day was won - the X-Men were victorious, with only minor casualties.  
  
[We must remove ourselves from these premises quickly,] Charles thought analytically. He was determined to remain the voice of reason through out the chaos - as always. The X-Men's SR71 jet hovered above them all, seeming to survey the damage. Charles transmitted his instructions to Angel to begin the evacuation of the injured. Then Charles waited while the X-Men boarded their plane. It took a relatively short time for Angel to complete the action, but Charles counted each second, half-expecting a much larger squadron of Sentinels to arrive and . . . He ground his teeth in determination. That will not happen, he thought positively, as Angel brought Ororo on board.  
  
"Wolverine take the controls. We must depart," he said. He turned in his seat, his eyes drawn to the prone young man lying on the floor of the plane. "It would be unwise not to take advantage of the lapse in further reinforcements." The other man plotted in their course, while Charles tapped his fingers on the arms of the pilot's seat.  
  
Although his concerns had been put to rest and even though they encountered no further resistance on their way back to the mansion, still.Professor Charles Xavier could not divest himself of the feeling that something had gone terribly wrong.  
  
* * * * *  
  
He watched the ensuing battle as if it were some TV melodrama and the X-Men were actors playing out a scene. Technically it was. The X-Men had not willingly signed up to the role of New Mutant Protectorate, but it was one they shouldered at any and every opportunity. And since he had sent the Sentinels to detain the mutants and acquire their latest "applicant for admission into the team", it was appropriate that he watched the resulting altercation. He doubted very much that they would succeed in killing or even capturing their intended, though. And if they did, it had just meant that he had not chosen wisely enough. Again, the probability of annihilation remained small, but that didn't mean he wouldn't watch. He needed to know the outcome.  
  
Regardless of the aftermath, he would get the desired results.  
  
Further, it would provide an excellent opportunity to observe the growth of the mutant's abilities these past four years. He had theorized that four years of non-use would have greatly increased his powers, but had yet to see them in action. The last time Clayton Darkmoon had used his abilities had been quite . . . impressive. He allowed himself a small private smile.  
  
Should he reach those power levels again, then my presence would be critical. I will have a meeting to attend to, he thought. He looked down where a small watch-like device was strapped to his wrist. In actuality, this apparatus was a micro-detection unit; it monitored quantities of psionic energy. Currently it was listing exorbitant levels due to the presence of an Omega class telepath and two more of the world's most powerful mutants. In his other hand, he held a device that functioned as an inhibitor/psi-damper, something akin to a power suppresser except this device functioned as a psychic cage. Both were essential to tracking his guest. He only had to wait, for he was sure the battle would precipitate the arrival of his intended party.  
  
As he predicted, the battle climaxed rapidly, resulting in the mass destruction of the Sentinels and the departure of the X-Men away from the scene. In fact, his prodigal son had been part of said devastation - which only supported his belief that the young mutant's powers had increased greatly over the past four years. Such a large burst of energy would certainly be put to good use. As if on cue, his wrist indicator began to beep ominously as it registered a massive increase in pure psionic energy. He smiled to himself, a cruel evil smile, as the first of many dread schemes began to come to fruition. 


	6. Chapter 5part 1: Cruel Intentions

Chapter 5  
  
Cruel Intentions  
  
- Part 1 -  
  
I was "awake" long before I opened my eyes. I'm always getting a visual on my surroundings from my radar sense. So I could 'see' that there were two people sitting on the left-hand side of the bed I was laying in. One was Ororo and the other was a girl that I hadn't met.  
  
My head ached dully - like it had been squeezed in a vice. I remembered pains like that from a long time ago. I probably hurt from the work out I had given my powers. What happened, I wondered groggily? Then the recent memories came flooding back. Sentinels! Attacking! I sat up quickly, in spite of the pain, tossing the bed covers off. The girl jumped, but Ororo smiled serenely at me, placing a calming hand upon her companion's arm. "We were under attack," I stammered, looking this way and that, as if robots might jump out from the shadows.  
  
"We returned to the mansion," Ororo said - as if that were the most obvious thing in the world.  
  
"Huh?" I said intelligently. Instead of waiting for an explanation, I began reaching out with my scanning power. We weren't on Murray Avenue any longer - probably not anywhere near CMU. I 'saw' a pretty large estate with extensive grounds. I doubted we were even in Pittsburgh.  
  
"You passed out," the younger girl explained, overcoming her surprise. She was very petite, and cute in a little-kid-sort-of-way. She stepped up close to the bed, looking.  
  
"I see," I said to Ororo. There was a moment of silence while I studied Ororo hard. "You're okay?" It was more of a statement than a question. I gave her a once over - internal and out - scanning for bruises, broken bones, etc. Not even a scratch.  
  
"I am in good health, Tres." I felt an intense wave of relief when and let out a long deep breath. "But I saw you . . ." I started. But how do you say "I saw you burned to a crisp?" to someone in a polite way. Instead, I focused on Ororo's young counterpart, who had crept a little closer still, staring hard at me. "What?" I finally asked.  
  
"Sorry," she said, abashed. "It's your eyes.I mean I've seen black kids before, but none that look like you and Ororo," she said, tossing an adoring glance over her shoulder at the older woman. I resisted the temptation to roll my eyes at her. She had to be about 14 or so.and probably didn't know any better. I tabled my annoyance with her and leaned forward.  
  
"As far as I know - I'm the only one of my kind," I said just above a whisper. Blond hair - really blond hair - and green eyes contrasted sharply with my rich brown skin, that had just a hint of red undertones. Not too many guys walking around that looked like me. Although appearances could be deceiving.  
  
"Ororo said the same thing," the young girl stated. "I'm Kitty," she said after a moment, sticking out a small hand. I smiled at her. She's just a kid, I reminded myself while shaking her tiny hand. She smiled back at me.  
  
"Tres," I said.  
  
"Tres? Like the number '3' in Spanish?" she asked. Not it was my turn to be impressed.  
  
"Yeah - just like that." I smiled again. Sharp little kid.  
  
"I heard how you beat up that Sentinel. Neat," she chatted on.  
  
"Thanks," I said, running my hands through my hair and shaking my head slightly. I felt anything but neat at the moment. More like someone had run over my head with a street sweeper. Repeatedly. "Where are we?"  
  
"West Chester, New York," Ororo said. "The X-Men defeated the remaining Sentinels. The best course of action to minimize media involvement was to retreat to the mansion. We were not pursued." She regarded me with her sky-colored gaze.  
  
I was beginning to see how the X-Men got a bad reputation. Ororo & Co. appeared and disaster followed right behind them. But that was a little crass of me to say, considering they had brought me back to their home with them. Especially since this last incident had my name stamped all over it. I looked at Ororo - Storm - again. "Storm," I said aloud, sounding out the name.  
  
I tried to contrast the peaceful woman sitting before me with the cape-clad warrior capable of the acts I'd witnessed in Pittsburgh. Her code name was certainly apropos. I tried to make it stick in my head, but Ororo was what I knew her as. It just seemed to fit her.  
  
"In the public arena, Storm is my code name. Here at home, I am but Ororo," she said.  
  
"Is everyone else okay?" I asked suddenly. I was still a little woozy from the mass-discharge. I'd never done that before.  
  
"Everyone is fine," she said.  
  
"I see," I said. Too many things were happening at once. Some one had tried to kill me today. I'd met the X-Men, been cornered into admitting my mutancy and then carted off to New York while I was unconscious. Could anything else possibly go wrong? "What a day," I muttered under my breath.  
  
"It has indeed been that," Professor Xavier said, wheeled into the infirmary by Peter. He was followed closely by a tall, almost strutting, blond who all but screamed "Silver Spoon". What really drew my attention to him were the pair of large fluffy white wings on his back. Peter smiled at me, and the winged guy gave me a cursory glance. I got the distinct impression that he was turning his nose up at me and decided right off that I didn't like him very much.  
  
"You've met Kitty Pryde, Ororo Munroe, and Peter Rasputin," Professor Xavier was saying. "This is another of my students, Warren Worthington, III," he introduced the fourth member of the group - of the X-Men, I corrected myself.  
  
"I'm Tres, nice to meet you," I greeted, extending my hand. We shook hands and he flashed me a perfectly white smile that was genuinely warm.  
  
"Nice to meet you, too," he replied, grasping my hand firmly. "Welcome to West Chester," he added. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all.  
  
"So - you're all X-Men?" I said giving the group a once over. There was a variety of nods and 'Yes's' from the assemblage.  
  
"How do you feel, Tovarisch?" That was from Peter.  
  
"Fine," I replied. I tried to put on a good front - but I was pretty shook up from the whole ordeal. I remembered exactly what had happened, but it had that surreal quality, kind of the way you remember a dream right after you wake up. "Thanks, Peter" I added, almost forgetting my manners.  
  
I observed Professor Xavier studying me intently. "Kitty, Warren, Peter, will you please excuse Ororo and I. We have some things we need to discuss with Mr. Darkmoon." Here comes the Headmaster- of-the-School role, again. Peter and the rest left with a chorus of friendly good-byes, before closing the door behind them. There was a brief moment of silence where I shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny of the Professor.  
  
"That was quite an impressive display, Mr. Darkmoon," Professor Xavier said after a moment.  
  
"Thank you, Sir," I said quietly, not quite able to meet his gaze.  
  
"Did you have any idea that you were capable of such an act?" he asked. He sat a little bit forward in his chair.  
  
"No, Sir." I looked down. I felt . . . something akin to fear at what I'd done. But there was also an excitement. I'd never pushed my powers to that level before. It was kind of a perverse joy to know what I could really do. But I tried to keep such improper feelings to myself - at least as much as I could around the present company.  
  
"What are you afraid of Tres?" Ororo asked me that. She looked so full of compassion and concern that it nearly put me at ease.  
  
What could I say? I wouldn't admit to being afraid. Fear was a weakness as far as I was concerned. And I certainly didn't want to admit that. "Nothing." But I had to come up with a better excuse than that. "It's just. . . I've been hiding my powers for so long. I just don't want anyone to get hurt when I use them." Or not use them.Ororo nodded, but the Professor was so solemn - he would've easily been able to tell I was holding back on the whole truth. Well that was just too damned bad, he wasn't getting any more information out of me. That was for sure.  
  
"I should get back to school," I said after a moment. The X-Men weren't the only one's who knew how to retire from a situation. Ororo and the Professor exchanged a Look.  
  
"We do not feel that would be the best course of action," Ororo said, simply. I opened my mouth to reply but was quickly cut off by Xavier.  
  
"We were attacked today, Mr. Darkmoon," Xavier said. "Attacked by forces we had believed to be destroyed. Furthermore, I believe that you were the target of the assault. If so, there could be more. You may not be able to repulse future confrontations by yourself. It would be in your best interests to remain here at the school for the time being." He folded his hands across his lap awaiting my decision at the end of his speech.  
  
My stomach had twisted itself into a pretzel - future confrontations? I considered for a few moments. "I guess you're right," I agreed coolly. Ororo nodded her approval. "But I have to go back on Monday - I've got finals. And I'll have to fly back for my books tonight so I can study." Thinking about tests and schoolwork took my mind away from the fact that someone might be trying to... I shook my head to dispel the ominous thoughts.  
  
Xavier nodded. "Of course, your education is of paramount concern. You are permitted to return to your dormitory to acquire the necessary materials." I paused, somewhat stupefied. Permitted? I didn't realize I'd had to ask for authorization.and didn't really like the idea that my freedom was suddenly impugned.  
  
"An escort would be a wise precaution, Professor," Ororo said. I stifled a remark about not needing a babysitter.  
  
"My thoughts exactly, Ororo. I would be remiss in my duties as Headmaster and as a telepath if I did not believe that you had just volunteered for the position," he said diplomatically. Ororo consented.  
  
Well at least if it's Ororo - someone I know pretty well, relatively speaking. "When do we leave?" I asked, adjusting to the idea of Ororo accompanying me back to Pittsburgh.  
  
"We've arranged a room for you, Mr. Darkmoon - one you're welcomed to use while we determine the nature of your - our - assailants and the reasons behind it. However, before you and Ororo depart, I'd like to discuss the nature of your mutant powers." I looked down at the white hospital-like bed which I'd been resting and exhaled slowly and deeply to keep from jumping off the bed and making for the nearest exit. "This was not the first time you've used your abilities to defend yourself?"  
  
"No, Sir."  
  
"Hmmmmmmmm," he cogitated briefly. "When was the first time you evidenced your mutant powers?"  
  
I paused. "When I was 15." I smiled thinking back to that day. "I remember the first time I really knew I was different. It was in the summer, school was out... I'd been having these migraines for weeks and I'd been trying to keep my parents from knowing how much pain I was in. I used to keep a bottle of aspirin hidden in between the mattresses in case it got too bad.  
  
"I had a really bad headache one night - I was up until about 3 am. I woke up the next day well after noon. I'd just finished eating lunch and I'd gone to the basement for something. I was careless. Somehow I slipped and fell down the steps. I should have been killed," I said looking at the wall. "But I wasn't. I flew. For the first time. That day."  
  
"Have you ever evinced any need for an external stimuli to exercise your abilities?" he asked.  
  
I reviewed the few uses of my powers. "Uh . . . No. Not that I am aware of."  
  
"Do you have any understanding of how your abilities work?" he asked me. I could feel his eyes boring into mine. At first I refused to meet his gaze, then reconsidered. I'm not afraid of anyone or anything, I reminded myself. I looked him straight in the eye, feeling more confident.  
  
"No. Not really. I think it may have something to do with light, but I haven't really studied the why's and how's of my mutant powers," I lied.  
  
"I see," Xavier said. He contemplated me for a few minutes. "I have a theory regarding the nature of your powers that I would like to test. Once you have returned to the mansion, we will schedule a preliminary session in the Danger Room to test my hypothesis. Although, after today's demonstration, I feel I am quite accurate in my current understanding."  
  
Does this guy ever leave anything to chance? "Okay," I agreed without thinking. Damn it! He's doing it again. I quickly stifled that thought before he snatched it up. "What's the Danger Room?"  
  
"It is the training facility the X-Men use to sharpen our special talents, individually and as a team," Ororo explained.  
  
"Okay," I thought. That still made for a wide variety of scenarios.and the name - 'Danger Room'. That couldn't be a good thing, right?  
  
"How do you feel, Tres?" Ororo asked.  
  
"Fine," I replied. In truth, I was just a little worn out. College life was hard and the sudden resurgence of my abilities - especially at the level I'd recently exercised them was my most likely reason for me passing out. That didn't quite have the ring of truth to it, but I refused to entertain any other options.  
  
Xavier nodded. "Fatigue was the most logical explanation for your unconscious state. A detailed examination corroborated this," he explained. "Your pulse and breathing were normal. You were merely exhausted by using your powers at such a level."  
  
"Hmmmm," was all I said in agreement. "I feel fine now, though."  
  
Ororo took that as a cue to get things in motion. "Since you feel able, we can depart for your campus now. We will return before midnight, Professor," she said to him.  
  
"Don't push yourself too hard," Professor Xavier advised me. "You've just begun using your powers again recently. The physiological strain that has been placed on your body of late has left you in a weakened condition." I balked at that. "In order to facilitate the process of re-integrating your mutant abilities back into your normal regime, it would behoove you not to overexert yourself."  
  
"Will do," I consented, only slightly wearied by his constant lecturing. I slipped off the side of the bed. Ororo rose, facing me. "I'm ready when you are," I told her.  
  
- End Part 1 -  
  
* * * * *  
  
This story © 2001 Sherman L Taylor, II  
  
Clayton "Tres" Darkmoon © 2001 Sherman L Taylor, II  
  
The X-Men, Professor Charles Xavier, and all constituent  
  
characters © 2001 Marvel Comics Group.  
  
This story is not for sale and is not to be distributed without  
  
permission of the author.  
  
Please electronically mail comments to CommanderInChf@aol.com.  
  
All constructive criticism is appreciated. 


	7. Chapter 5part2: Cruel Intentions cont

Chapter 5  
  
Cruel Intentions  
  
- Part 2 -  
  
Ororo - or Storm - and I had decided to fly back in the Blackbird instead of using our powers. I probably could have made it there faster by myself, but I didn't know how my backpack would have stood up to return trip. Plus - and I hated to admit this - Professor Xavier was right; I didn't want to overdo and a flight like that could really do me in. But sitting back in the co-pilot's seat, eyes closed, I couldn't be too angry about my decision to take a joy ride in the X-Jet. At least I could rest and let my mind just "wander".  
  
It bothered me to have to agree with him - especially about being in a weakened state. I don't know why. It just seemed like every time we talked, he was always right. He made me feel like I was a little kid asking, for permission to go out and play. It was annoying. I wonder if I were telepathic, would I be so . . . pushy? Pretentious? I shook my head. I hope not. But maybe that kind of power lead you to be a little presumptious.I mean you always had that edge, that extra foresight. Reading other people's innermost thoughts and feelings - when even sometimes they didn't even acknowledge them. I wonder if he gets on everyone else's nerves because of his power - or if it's just me? Of course he would know if he were annoying people.But, then why would he do it? Maybe telepathy didn't compensate for someone's natural personality. But then maybe it did. I merely shook my head at the conundrum. I'm glad my powers were of physical variety - not mental.  
  
I exhaled slowly and settled back in the chair. I shut down my scanner power and just focused on me - on what I was going to do now. Was I really in danger? Would it be as bad as Professor X had said? Would I have to always be looking over my shoulder now? What about the rest of the student population? I'm sure there were a few mutants mixed in at school - but none of them were X-Men.Could I fight back another contingence of Sentinels? What if I couldn't? What if I were hurt? What if someone else were hurt? Would I get blamed for it because I was a mutant?  
  
Probably - considering the recent anti-mutant hysteria in Pittsburgh.And then what would happen?  
  
Like my parents would actually take me back.I'd be kicked out of school.No home, no family. Then what would I do.? Live out the rest of my days, running? I shook my head. No. I won't. I won't give in to that line of thinking. It's ridiculous. A completely isolated incident. It'd be fine, I tried to tell myself. I'd be just fine. I'd been so far - on my own. I graduate in a year . . . then it's off to a new city and a new life. I've gotten pretty damned good at hiding - I hadn't even used my powers once in the last four years.well - not consciously anyway. But now, I do.And 2 days later, I've got the X-Men in one hand.And overgrown Transformers in the other. Good versus evil. More like the lesser of two evils, I corrected myself. What a choice.  
  
I snuck a quick "peek" at Ororo. What do I really know about these people, anyway? At any time any one of them could take me down. What if they're not really the good guys? You hear, once in a while, about mutants getting killed or being involved in killings.public property destruction. What if the helping hand they are supposedly extending holds a smoking gun? What if they're just spying on me to see how they can take my powers away from me? Or what if they're trying to experiment on my powers . . . I blanched at that thought.it hit a little too close to home. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, having strayed just this far across the line into paranoia.  
  
Ororo said something from the pilot's seat.  
  
"Excuse me?" I'd been so preoccupied that I hadn't heard her.  
  
She repeated her query. "Are you unwell, Tres?"  
  
Just listening to the sound of her voice did wonders to help me relax.But it didn't quite silence that little nagging voice inside me. "No - I'm fine. Just tired," I lied. Ororo nodded.  
  
"This type of engagement can be unsettling."  
  
"You can say that again," I said, sarcastically. She smiled, slightly. It was a small sign of joy that had no hint of malevolence. A simple gesture - but one I needed nonetheless. How could I think that she would have any interest in harming me, I thought contemplating her cheerful expression. Okay - maybe cheerful didn't exactly describe Ororo - but it did describe Kitty. And would a junior high kid really be involved in some nefarious scheme like that? Well - maybe a cult. I shook my head at that notion. I can't think things like that - I'll deal with it later, I thought pushing it aside.  
  
"At dinner, you inquired as to the nature of my mutant abilities" she continued.  
  
"Professor Xavier told me you could control the weather." I hadn't really thought of it in detail. Of course the circumstances surrounding the information exchange hadn't been ideal. But now that I had a moment to reflect.Did that mean she could make it snow? Or rain? Hail? Make the wind blow? Now that's a power . . .  
  
"Wow," was all I could say. I'd seen the storm clouds earlier, and the lady herself hurling lightning bolts and creating Arctic-like conditions. She had a considerable amount of power at her disposable. I thought about her flashy, skin-revealing costume. You'd think someone that could control the weather would want a costume that would insulate them against all the various forces of nature. Like a parka or a wet suit. Not a skin-tight vinyl get-up that was only this big. Then I thought better of it. "Is that how you stay warm? Does your body compensate for the changes in the temperature?"  
  
"Yes." She tapped a few controls on the Blackbird's console.  
  
"Must be nice - to not get cold during the winter. My power kind of works like that, I think. During the summer, I never overheat, though. I don't tan.and I don't need sunglasses," I told her.  
  
"Your mutant ability compensates for the excess light," she surmised.  
  
"I guess," I shrugged. To be honest, I didn't really know. One person had tried to explain to me how my powers worked - but I was younger then and not particularly interested in the effects of mutant powers on my physiology at the time. I tried not to think about that particular lesson and instead took a good look around the X-Men's jet.  
  
While I was no aficionado of planes, I'd have guessed that there were a few systems on board that far outstripped anything that the Navy had. Probably even NASA. I wonder where they got their technology from? Maybe Xavier's got some secret stash of inventors and such squirreled away in his mansion. You could probably hoard any number of people in a home that size, I thought recalling my scans of the grounds.  
  
That only made me think of home and my parents. Probably toiling away. Right about now, my mother would be sitting down to watch Wheel of Fortune and my dad would be curled up in his Lay-Z-Boy reading the paper. I smiled at the thought. Thinking about my Dad brought my attention back to Ororo. I guess I was kind of warming up to her, despite my doubts. I mean she did risk her life to save me. She could have let me get cooked by that Sentinel. "What part of Africa are you from?" Her accent was distinct - much more pronounced than my father's. This was the first time I'd had the chance to mention it.  
  
Ororo got a far-off look in her eyes. "I was born here in America. But my childhood was spent in Cairo," she said nostalgically.  
  
That certainly explained the accent and some of her attire at dinner, although not the snazzy little X-Men's uniform. More importantly, though, that confirmed my hunch that we had some things in common. "My father's from Africa," I said. "He grew up here in America, though. I think he came here when he was very young."  
  
"Do you know from what area of Africa your father is from?" she asked with interest.  
  
I shook my head. "No." My father and I weren't exactly what you'd call close. I hadn't delved too much into his past.  
  
"And your mother?" she queried. "Is she too from Africa?"  
  
"Nope. She's Native American," I said with pride. "Full-blooded Cheyenne." I knew a little bit more about my mother's history than my father's. "She was the daughter of the tribe's shaman, although she was a little more progressive than the rest of her family. She moved away from the area where she grew up and came to Ohio after college with my Dad." Ororo nodded her head in understanding. "What about you?"  
  
Again - that nostalgic look. Her eyes clouded over for a moment. "My father was American. He and my mother died when I was very young..."  
  
"I'm sorry," I said, suddenly wishing I could take back my question. "I didn't mean to bring up any painful memories."  
  
"The X-Men are my family now," she said with just a touch of tenderness in her tone. "They are as close as blood, bonded in ways that transcend friendship," she explained. I'd have to take her word on that; I'd never let myself develop those kinds of close relationships since.school. A few moments passed where neither of us spoke. I guess we were both thinking about our families and friends.  
  
"Will you be missed at school, for a few days?" Ororo asked.  
  
I shook my head. "Not really. It's finals time. Most students are in and out of the dorms. No one will miss me for a few days. I'll leave a few notes and make a few phone calls, so everyone's covered," I explained.  
  
Ororo nodded her agreement. "Do you have a great deal of studying ahead of you?"  
  
Now I felt really depressed. "More than I'd like to admit.But I'll get by. I always plan on studying a lot. Go over and re-do each problem set, then go through the old midterms, do some reading and extra problems in the books, then highlight key points in the notes." I started laughing. Ororo's eyebrow arched slightly. "Somehow, I never get all that done before I take the test."  
  
"Perhaps you are over-planning," Ororo suggested.  
  
"Maybe. But you can never be over-prepared. Some of my professors are pretty tricky. You never know what you're going to get on the test."  
  
"You can avail yourself of the mansion's library and computers to help with your studies."  
  
I considered that. "Certainly won't be as many people as there are on campus. Space in libraries is a hot commodity at the end of the semester."  
  
"I believe there are fewer students at Xavier's than at Carnegie Mellon. You should find ample room in the Xavier manse to study," she said with a small smile. I laughed at Ororo's simple joke and felt the rest of the tension melt away.  
  
"I guess I will just have to hope for the best," I replied, still grinning. This time the silence was warm and comfortable. I stretched in my seat before relaxing back.  
  
"It is odd," Ororo said.  
  
"What is?" I asked. I peered out the cockpit window as we flew onward to Pittsburgh.  
  
"We had believed that the Sentinel program had been terminated. Yet just today, we have undeniable proof that it is fully active," she said. She didn't seem overly concerned, although come to think of it, on the whole, Ororo seemed rather impassive.  
  
"Sentinel program?" Ororo gave me a brief run-down of what exactly a Sentinel was - a mutant-tracking robot, and how the X-Men had battled them several times before. There were a few details she seemed to gloss over, but I didn't press. I was too - shocked/disgusted - by the fact that people would go to such lengths to 'contain the mutant menace'. I could be ambushed by an overgrown Go-Bot?  
  
"It is disappointing to see the depths of hatred that the human soul is capable of," she replied. "The X-Men have triumphed over adverse odds before and will so again. You have my word on that," she finished solemnly.  
  
Her word might mean a lot but still . . . Those things had been designed to capture and even kill. What if I - we - weren't so lucky the next time? What if one of the X-Men were hurt or killed? Or what if I died? I slowly exhaled, thinking rationally about the situation. "Well - wouldn't it make more sense to search out the manufacturing facility of the Sentinels and destroy it?" I asked.  
  
Ororo considered for a moment then shook her head. "That may compound the problem. The purpose of the X-Men is to re-integrate the small, but growing sect of mutants back into non-mutant society. Non-mutants are already afraid of the powers that we possess. By destroying a facility in such a fashion, we could increase mutant hysteria, making the X-Men a target for the rising feelings of distrust and loathing that is directed towards all mutants," she explained.  
  
I didn't know if I bought into all that. I mean - if I knew some psychopath were pumping out huge robots to hunt me down, you can bet I'd make it one of my priorities to take the fight right to his front door. I mean - why not wipe out the plant making the Sentinels? Then - Poof! No more killer robots! That thought kind of eased the tightening knot of tension growing in my stomach. But only a little . . .  
  
"Hmmmmm," was my only reply to her statement.  
  
"You do not agree?" she said, regarding me for a moment.  
  
"To be honest - no. I wouldn't stand idly by and let some bigoted tyrant create weapons of mass destruction and then send them after me. If it were up to me, I'd find that buster and make him sorry he'd ever built a 'Sentinel'."  
  
Ororo paused a moment. "Today Tres we faced less than twenty Sentinels. It took a trained team of five to disable them. The Goddess smiled on us today, by allowing them to attack in waves. That allowed the threat to be more manageable. Consider, for a moment, arriving at the Sentinel production facility where not two nor twenty, but perhaps two hundred or two thousand Sentinels were waiting? Do you believe that you alone could mount an offensive that would disable such a formidable force? Sentinels do not tire, they do not need to breathe, or relax. And they do not forgive. They are designed to kill. And they do so, efficiently. Do you still believe it would be beneficial to launch a counter strike?  
  
As she spoke, with such calm, unwavering certainty, an ice-cold sliver of fear worked its way up my spine. The thought of dozens, hundreds, maybe thousands of Sentinels lying in wait for me as I showed up ready to fight filled my mind.made it hard to breathe. That many of them - ugh - I turned my head to the side and swallowed to keep from vomiting. Outside, the night sky raced on, seemingly peaceful. But who knew what terrors were lurking in the darkness? I imagined an endless wave of Sentinels suddenly appearing out of nowhere, Ororo and I, vulnerable and outnumbered. The dimly lit cockpit suddenly felt suffocating.  
  
Without warning I released a portion of my powers, summoning globes of bright light into existence inside the plane. No darkened corners remained untouched by the light - where a potential threat may be hiding. Simultaneously, I threw out my "scanning" sense to its furthest, searching, looking for anything. No supersized Decepticon was going to catch me unaware. That's for damned sure!  
  
Oroco waited patiently beside me, and, when I had relaxed back into my seat, she spoke. "Perhaps, an alternative plan?"  
  
I exhaled slowly to keep the tremor out of my voice - an old trick my mother taught me. Breathe out the fear - she'd say - then you won't be afraid anymore. A few breaths later and I felt a little better. Maybe it was the trick or maybe it was just thinking about Mom.  
  
"What other way?" I asked slowly with deliberate pause between each word.  
  
"One against many - the odds would not be in your favor." She didn't finish the rest of that statement - there was no need to. I knew what she was getting at. "However, consider if you were part of a group, a team. Your chances of victory would increase dramatically."  
  
"Maybe." What? Join the X-Men? Be a part of the team? I saw what that would mean earlier today.4 city blocks reduced to rubble, and me taking orders from a pushy bald telepath. Nuh uh, I thought. "No," I snapped. The balls of light I controlled pulse in time with my anger. "I don't want that." I stopped myself from adding 'again'.  
  
"I had no intention of upsetting you, Tres," Ororo said calmly.  
  
"I'm not upset," I countered, not even trying to sound civil. Ororo turned her head ever so slightly, to regard the nearest blue sphere hovering mid- air. Her eyebrow arched ever so lightly before she turned her gaze upon me. Oops - busted! So much for Mr. Nonchalant. With a mental "flick of the wrist" I banished the light balls. The cabin returned to its uncomfortable dimness.  
  
"I'd still rather beat the Hell out of whoever sent those things after me," I grumbled.  
  
"As an X-Man we often have to put aside our personal feelings," she stated. Anger and fear and worry - all twisted up together inside me. "Do you not feel it would be wrong to use your powers against one who lacked the same ability?" And let someone else kill me? And you're making me out to be the bully, I thought viciously? Suddenly a simmering rage boiled over.  
  
"But I'm not an X-Man, Ororo. I'm just a student . . . who happens to be a mutant. I don't think it would be an abuse of my powers to use them against the guy that sent those Sentinels after me. Mutant or no. I didn't do anything wrong! And more than anything, I just want to go back to my 'mundane' life. It's not fair," I said, choking on the last few words as the deadly seriousness of everything that had just happened to me settled in. By the Goddess - someone had wanted me dead or worse. I turned my head away from Ororo and kept the tidal wave of despair from washing over me. Drowning me.  
  
"It is unsafe for you to be alone, Tres. Surely you see the wisdom in remaining at the mansion until we can determine the identity of your attacker."  
  
"That's your opinion," I said coldly, still not looking at her. I paused, still struggling for control. My emotions and my powers needed release. All I wanted to do at that point was to hit something very, very hard. "The only reason I'm hanging around at all is because you and Professor Xavier think it's best," I countered in a low voice. "Maybe you're right...maybe you're wrong. I'll give it a shot the X-Man way but I'm not changing my personal philosophy. The next person that comes looking to start trouble with Tres Darkmoon is in for a world of hurt," I vowed, looking her square in the face.  
  
Ororo grew slightly more impassive and focused her attention on flying the plane. "We have arrived," were her words after several minutes had past. "I shall engage the autopilot and provide cover for your reconnaissance. You will be all right?" She seemed somewhat concerned. Although, her tone had a flatness that it had lacked not more than ten minutes ago.  
  
"I'll be fine, thanks," I said. My anger abated, I suddenly realized that I'd been a real jerk to someone who was going out of her way to make me feel more comfortable. Circumstances notwithstanding. Ororo was probably a little put off by my 'childish display'. "Be right back," was all I said, though. She tapped another control and door opened on the side of the jet. Amazingly enough, the wind didn't come rushing in due to the pressure differential. I wondered, briefly, if Storm's powers were responsible. I didn't stop to think about it though; instead I leapt out of the plane and made my way to the ground.  
  
Sheesh! Ororo was right about 'providing cover'. If I had any doubt about the nature of her powers, I wouldn't anymore. There was a dense, pea- soup fog covering the entire campus. I was disoriented at first, and in my exuberance, dropped way too low to the ground before I thought better of it and began to scan my way forward.  
  
Good thing I had. I'd come really close to crashing through a building. I managed to recover quickly enough, but that shook me up pretty bad. I'd be much more careful in the future.  
  
The rest of the pseudo-mission went well. I shoved my books and a few clothes into an overnight bag, left a note for my roommate and got out of the room without incident. Through the window of course. Needless to say, I made it back to the plane without destroying any public property.But if I did, I'd definitely be branded with a big fat 'X' whether I wanted it or not. I shook my head and flew back to the plane.  
  
* * * * *  
  
We were pretty quiet on the way back from Pittsburgh. It wasn't a relaxing silence, either. It was more like a somber, foreboding hush had fallen over us. Ororo didn't try to initiate another conversation with me and I certainly did not want one with her. I tried dozing off, but I couldn't do it; there were too many thoughts tumbling around in my head, for one thing. I got up and began to walk around the plane, instead.  
  
I was annoyed. I didn't like the fact that being around the X-Men meant that I had to act or behave differently than I normally would have. Asking permission to go somewhere. Having a chaperone. The discussion on our differences in personal philosophy was only my latest reason for me to not want to remain in the X-mansion. It was a minor difference of opinion - letting the bad guys have their way with mutant kind as opposed to appearing on their doorstep ready to bust some chops - but I'd been the target of the most recent anti-mutant assault. And I really wanted to strike back. Hard.  
  
Maybe I was just on edge. I ran my hands through my hair whiled I pace up and down the X-plane. So what if Professor Xavier felt it was best for me to stay here in West Chester. Was that really the best course of action for me? I could handle just about anything that they threw at me. 'They' being the nebulous reference to any and all nefarious people with intention of bringing harm to my person.  
  
Still it might not be so bad.From what I had 'seen', the mansion was nice. Professor Xavier lived well. It wouldn't be so bad to indulge, would it? At least for a few days, until I could figure out who or what was after me. Not that it would take that long.I'd already comprised a very short, but succinct Enemies List. The only thing was I didn't have any idea how to track them down.  
  
Maybe it'd be best if I stayed at Xavier's for a while. I'm sure the X-Men could help, considering all their technology and their powers. If their jet was any indication of the rest of the mansion's equipment - I gave the plane another once over - then they'd probably have state of the art tracking devices. Maybe that could help me flush out a few potential prey. That would make staying with them worthwhile.  
  
I sighed, rolling my head around on my shoulders trying to loosen up the tense muscles a bit.  
  
"Are you injured?" Ororo asked from the pilot's chair. She must have seen me twisting about.  
  
"A little," I replied. I smiled to myself, out of relief that the silence was broken and that I'd decided on a course of action - revenge. "Must have slept wrong." Or been unconscious wrong, I thought.  
  
"Perhaps. When we return to the mansion, we can give you a full examination. You may have injured yourself in the fight," she suggested.  
  
"I doubt it," I replied. "Those Sentinels couldn't throw anything at me that I couldn't handle," I boasted.  
  
Ororo paused - making it clear to me that she knew I was full of hot air. "Perhaps not. But you were ill-equipped to use your powers in a combat situation. You could have easily been a danger to yourself or others," she rebutted. "Your stay at the School could benefit you greatly. You could learn how to use your powers effectively for self-defense, or at least so as not to endanger anyone else," she went on.  
  
I shook my head. "I'm not interested in using my abilities effectively or otherwise. I just want to finish school, start my own business and make lots of money. Without rescuing cats from trees and helping old ladies across the street," I countered making my way back to the front of the plane.  
  
"With great power comes great responsibility, Tres," she said wisely. "Your responsibility is to the world - to use your powers to benefit all of humanity."  
  
"Why?" I'd come close to snapping at her that I had no responsibility to anyone other than myself. But that sounded pretty harsh - even for me.  
  
"You have been blessed with gifts Tres. Powers beyond imagination, perhaps beyond reason. To not use your abilities to ease the burden on others, to not oppose those whose Machiavellian ideals would enslave the world, is to be no better than the deadliest of villains the X-men have ever faced. It is our duty to mankind. A sacred birthright that we are sworn to uphold." She tapped a few buttons on the control panel after finishing her speech. I think she was waiting for a response from me.  
  
I'll give her one thing, she certainly knew how to lay it on thick. Now.Ororo didn't take a condescending tone or intend it to be a lecture. But I was torn between defending my position and agreeing with her. I couldn't quite bring myself to give into her position, although a lot of what she said did make sense. But.  
  
I didn't know what to say or think - so I said nothing. We finished the trip in silence. Luckily, we weren't too far away from the hangar when this last little difference of opinion took place. I was certainly eager to get out into the open and give myself time to think about things.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"I trust your trip was uneventful," Professor Xavier addressed both Ororo and I in his large office. A fire had been lit, warming the spacious room. It kept the cold at bay, although Storm probably could have made it perpetually summer on the grounds.  
  
I gave Ororo sidelong glance before answering. "It was . . . insightful," I replied.  
  
"Yes - Clayton and I had a chance to discuss the school's ideology," Ororo said. Uh oh - I wonder if she'll tell Professor Xavier about our little 'chats'? And my - I quickly silenced those thoughts. I'd almost forgotten whom I was in the presence of. Xavier had been looking at Ororo, but I saw the corners of his mouth turned up in the barest of grins.  
  
"Mr. Darkmoon, Kitty has volunteered to show you to your room. You must certainly be tired after the day you've had. Ororo will brief me on your little 'chats'," he said in a very polite dismissal. My eyes narrowed as he voiced the exact inflection of my thoughts of a moment before. I'd have to watch what I said and what I thought around this place. Just then, there was a knock at the door and Professor Xavier told Kitty to come in.  
  
The youngest X-Man walked in, smiling to herself. "Hi 'Roro," she said brightly. "Tres." I stood up, getting a head rush from rapidly shifting my equilibrium. Whew - I was tired.  
  
"I guess I'm all yours, Kitty," I said to her. I turned back to Professor and Ororo. "Good night. And thank you for having me," I added.  
  
"We are glad to have you, here." Ororo graced me with one of her breathtaking smiles. "Sleep well." The Professor nodded his agreement to her words. I gathered up my books and my over night bag and followed Kitty out the door, pulling it shut behind us. I let out a small sigh once outside the study, glad to have a little breathing room for first time all night.  
  
"How was your trip?" Kitty asked once we were out in the hallway.  
  
"Interesting to say the least," I replied as the petite girl led me down the corridor.  
  
"Oh? Did you and Ororo have a chance to talk about the school?" she asked perceptively. I quickly adjusted my pace from on-campus-gotta-be-in- class-soon to a more leisurely stroll. At least Kitty wouldn't have to run to keep up with me.  
  
"Uh - yes, we did, in fact," I told her. Guess I can't let my guard down around anybody in this place.  
  
"Well.I hope you like it around here. It's good to have another young person," she said. "Someone who can relate." I doubted I'd have much in common with a junior high student.but who knew? She certainly seemed intelligent. Smarter than some of my classmates, I thought. Maybe this was an opportunity for me to get the inside on the Danger Room and the rest of the X-Men.  
  
"Kitty - Professor Xavier mentioned something about a 'Danger Room'. What do you know about it?" I asked trying to maintain a tone of moderate interest.  
  
"That's where we exercise our powers. Professor Xavier or Ororo usually run the sessions."  
  
Our, huh? "So you've used the room, then?"  
  
"Yep. I worked out a lot though before hand - to get ready for my first Danger Room run," she explained matter-of-factly.  
  
"Oh." I thought briefly. "So it's like a gym?" I was still confused. What kind of gym would be good for me to give my powers a work out? I'd burn every piece of equipment to the ground.  
  
She laughed. "No. It's more like . . . well," she struggled for a moment to describe it. "The room uses a mixture of mechanical devices, holograms, force fields and the like to test the limits of our powers. You can create a lot of different scenarios in the Danger Room that you wouldn't get in real life. It's like having your own movie set that you can alter at will. Sometimes, though, the X-Men test their powers against each other."  
  
"Like in a fight?" I said, only slightly alarmed.  
  
"Something like that." An impish smile appeared on her cherubic features.  
  
I shook my head thinking about Storm v. Colossus - the main event. Geez! That sort of answered my question about the Danger Room. "You'll get to see it tomorrow," Kitty said, sensing my confusion. "The X-Men work out every day in the Danger Room. Plus you'll probably use it on Sunday. Professor X's really interested in seeing your powers in a controlled environment."  
  
Great! I thought. I had a sudden image of the X-Men trying to take me on in the Danger.Storm, Colossus, Angel.I wondered how many more mutants were running around the mansion. And how did he find all of them . . . ? "Professor Xavier has a mutant tracking device doesn't he? That's how he found me, right?" I guessed.  
  
"Yeah. That's how he found me, too. It's called Cerebro. I'll show it to you tomorrow when we watch the Danger Room session," she prattled on. I allowed myself a small self-satisfied smirk as she gave me that last detail. Perfect.just what I needed to hear.  
  
"Where are you from?" I changed the subject, idly chatting while I seized upon that important piece of information.  
  
"Deerfield, Illinois," she said. "My folks are still back there. Where are you from?"  
  
"North Canton, Ohio," I said. "Small town - about an hour south of Cleveland." I usually followed up with that last part. Most people didn't know where my home was. Unless of course you were a big football fan; the Football Hall of Fame was ten minutes away.  
  
"Ah," was all she said. "Did you like it there?"  
  
I shrugged. "Nice clean town to grow up in. Very conservative though. Pittsburgh's not much better, but CMU has introduced me to a more . . . diverse culture. Although not as diverse as this school," I said.  
  
"Well - there aren't too many schools like this around," she informed me.  
  
More than you know, kiddo. But I said, "Do you like it here?" I figured I could take advantage of the situation. She was after all, 5 years younger than me.maybe even 6. I doubt she could evade a full 'investigation'. Boy was I wrong.  
  
"Yeah - Xavier's is where I wanna be. I was lucky Professor X found me." She led me down another long hallway.  
  
"You think so?" I asked, questioning my own decision to stay here - even for a few days.  
  
"You bet," she said stopping before a room. She opened the door for me and gestured grandly for me to enter.  
  
"You like playing hostess, Kitty?" I smiled. In answer, she curtsied then reached for the light switch. The room was large - much bigger than my dorm room in the frat house. Fully furnished, too. I walked inside, followed by Kitty.  
  
I tossed my overnight bags in the closet and jumped onto the bed. I could indulge in a little pre-teen delinquency by bouncing on the mattress. Kitty laughed at my antics.  
  
"Is that what they teach you at college?" she asked. I turned to look back at her. She'd pulled a chair away from the desk and sat down, propping her head up in one hand.  
  
"Uh - yes. And a few other things," I suppressed a yawned.  
  
"Tired?" she asked.  
  
"A little. But not too tired to chat.What else can you tell me about this school?" I prompted her for more facts.  
  
She shrugged. "What else do you want to know?"  
  
I had a few ideas - but the kid was just too quick. I'd have to be careful what I asked her, young or not. "What's there to know? How many 'students' are there?" I asked.  
  
"Right now - just the six of us. Seven including you." She gave me a significant look.  
  
"You, Ororo, Peter, and Warren.who else is there?" I queried.  
  
"Wolverine and Kurt." She made a little face when she said the latter. Not disgust, but maybe distaste or apprehension. Like she wasn't quite friends with him.Hmmmm.Were the X-Men not quite the team front they attempted to portray?  
  
"What're they like? Woleverine and Kurt?"  
  
"Well - Wolverine's kind of grouchy - or he tries to be. And Kurt's . . . well . . ." Again - that mildly distrusting look on her face.  
  
"Yes?" I asked my curiosity piqued.  
  
"You'll see for yourself." She shifted, seemingly uncomfortable with either the topic of conversation or the chair. Probably the first one.  
  
"All right - if you say so," I told her. This time I didn't quite stifle the yawn.  
  
"You really are tired," Kitty observed. "I should probably get going," she all but bounced off the chair. "Have a good night Tres," she told me. "See you in the morning - bright and early," she added before shutting the door.  
  
"G'Night Kitty," I called after her. I lay there for a few moments then managed to drag myself out of bed to turn off the light. I walked back to the bed and plopped down on the soft mattress. I pushed back the sheets and tugged off my shoes and socks - not even bothering to get completely undressed. I was so tired by now, I didn't care. I crawled under the covers and drifted off to sleep almost immediately.  
  
- End Part 2 -  
  
* * * * *  
  
This story © 2001 Sherman L Taylor, II  
  
Clayton "Tres" Darkmoon © 2001 Sherman L Taylor, II  
  
The X-Men, Professor Charles Xavier, and all constituent  
  
characters © 2001 Marvel Comics Group.  
  
This story is not for sale and is not to be distributed without  
  
permission of the author.  
  
Please electronically mail comments to CommanderInChf@aol.com.  
  
All constructive criticism is appreciated. 


	8. Chapter 6: Winds of Fortune

Chapter 6  
  
Winds of Fortune  
  
#Knock, knock.# Someone rapped on the door. I bolted upright.  
  
Ever been away at school, and then come home for Christmas break. That first morning you wake up in your old bed - even though its familiar - you still wake up feeling.disjoined. Out of place. It feels unnatural. The sun is coming in from a different angle, the smells are different, the furniture doesn't look right, and all the sounds are off.  
  
Waking up in that strange bedroom in West Chester was like that.  
  
Times a million.  
  
I awoke with an abnormal morning alertness. There was a second of pure panic - the strange surroundings - then I let out a long sigh as the memories came flooding back. #Knock knock# came again. I unconsciously reached out with my power and checked to see who it was. Funny - how one day you can do a complete reversal; not using my powers at all, to having them take the place of something as simple as saying "Who is it?"  
  
I "saw" the ever-attentive Kitty Pryde standing on the other side of the door, tapping one foot, in a stance of extreme patience. "Come in," I called. I smoothed back the covers, realizing I'd slept in my clothes. I had been tired.  
  
"Geez - I didn't think you'd ever get up," she said, stalking into the room. "I've been knocking for five minutes!" She was such an odd mix of maturity and childish exuberance, it was almost comical. I had to smile, especially with the bright morning sunlight streaming in the window behind me. "Slept in your clothes?" Her lips pursed in disapproval. "Did you sleep well, at least?"  
  
"Yeah - pretty well," I agreed. I ran my fingers through my tousled hair. I definitely had bed-head, today. It was such an ordinary thing to be concerned about, though, when you've just been hunted for sport and trashed several city blocks. I laughed at my own shallowness.  
  
"What's so funny?" Kitty asked brows dipped in confusion.  
  
I smiled to myself. "I'm in a mansion.in West Chester, after leaving Pittsburgh because fifty-foot tall mutant hunting robots were after me.Having been rescued by an outlaw team of mutant heroes. And I'm worried about how my hair looks . . . I've got priorities," I finished, shaking my head. Kitty laughed.  
  
"Well - here's the deal," she said, sitting down in the chair. It was still in the same place she'd left it last night. "Professor X wanted me to come get you fitted for your costume, then for us to go down to the Danger Room to see the X-Men's practice session. But, Ororo said that you'd probably need your rest more than watching the team session today..."  
  
"So I got a few more minutes of sleep. What time is it?" I asked, casting about for a clock.  
  
"About 8:30. Team session and mine are over. Time for breakfast," she added cheerily.  
  
"Okay. Can I shower, first?" I attempted to be polite, but I'm not much of a morning person. I stretched. It's amazing how a good night's sleep can make you feel so much better.  
  
"Sure - just make it quick. Breakfast is soon. We have to hurry," she said imperiously.  
  
"Okay, okay,." I said, rolling my eyes. I slid out of the bed. "Can you tell me where the shower is, please?"  
  
"Sure thing," she said. She gave me the directions, including the location of fresh linens and I gathered my overnight bag in hand and headed down the hallway. Soon I was lathering up and singing away in the shower. Singing helped me to relax.and I certainly needed it after yesterday. I paused in the middle of rinsing shampoo from my hair to contemplate how quickly my life had gone from mediocre to unbelievable. Hard to believe that 24 hours ago I was just Tres the average college student.now I was Tres - superhero in training. Ugh, I thought washing the last of the soap from my blond tangles. I didn't even want to think about living that type of lifestyle.  
  
Ever have one of those moments where time seems to slow down.when you're doing the really heavy thinking? When you've come to a profound understanding of . . . everything. I watched as the water cascaded down off my head, slowed as it rebounded off my shoulders, and pooled in my hands.then every drop stood still. I looked down in the shallow water. I thought I could almost see my reflection.And I knew. I knew it would never be the same. Life would never be the same. I'd never be the same. I'd never been the same.And it was time I'd stopped pretending.  
  
But as quickly as those profound instances of protracted time begin - living in the moment, as it were - the realization crashes down on you and the moment is over. Hot water rained down upon me again, normally. I rinsed once more then ended my shower.  
  
Normally, I would have dried with a towel, but today I used my powers to evaporate the water right off. It saved me a minute or two, which I needed. I tended to take long showers. What can I say? I loved the water.  
  
I dressed hurriedly and headed back down to my room where Kitty was waiting expectantly. I tossed my overnight bag to the side, looking at the small sack containing just a few days worth of clothes. Clothes.X-Men clothes. "So a costume.?"  
  
"Yeah - you get an X-Men uniform for the Danger Room sessions," Kitty informed me.  
  
"A uniform.." Uh oh. "I see," I said in that tone that meant I'd really be 'seeing' later on. "Spandex?"  
  
She laughed at my expression. "Don't worry, it's not so bad. You gotta have something that can withstand your powers. And if you're in a fight, you don't want your clothing to slow you down."  
  
"Uh huh," I agreed.  
  
"You'll get fitted after breakfast," she said. "For your session tomorrow morning." She guided us to the large stairway. On the walk down, Kitty explained to me about the costume-making machine that you programmed in your measurements and then which popped out garments by the dozen. You could design your own clothing in the machine - whatever you wanted. Kitty seemed especially excited by this; I wondered if she liked to play dress up.  
  
We turned right at the bottom of the stairs and Kitty led us through the kitchen where Peter and someone I hadn't met were making breakfast. "Good morning," Kitty said brightly. I envied her incessant energy at this time in the morning. Peter favored her with a good-natured grin and wished us both a good morning.  
  
"Did you sleep well?" he asked.  
  
"Like a brick." I noticed the shorter man studying me hard. I didn't know quite what to make of him eyeing me, but I didn't think it was favorable. I shivered slightly under that gaze.  
  
My thoughts must have been pretty obvious - let alone the body language - because Kitty suddenly chimed in with a. "Don't let ol' Wolverine intimidate ya. He's not a morning person either." So this was Wolverine.He extended a hand while Kitty made formal introductions. Always the perfect hostess.  
  
"Nice to meet you Wolverine," I said.  
  
"You too, kid," he replied. His voice was gruff and suited his stature - solid and tough. I found myself regarding him with the same type of intensity he'd favored me with as he and Peter walked from the kitchen with their food. I wondered what his power was.Intimidation, perhaps? Pretty useful in a fight, I bet. Just one glare and all your enemies run away. I chuckled to myself.  
  
Meanwhile Kitty began opening cupboards, scrounging around for cereal. She asked me what I wanted, breaking my train of thought. "What did you say?"  
  
"I said there's muffins over there, oatmeal, cereal, juice in the refrigerator," she repeated, indicated the respective locations.  
  
"Okay - thanks. Where are the coffee mugs?" I asked, busying myself around the kitchen. I pulled a bowl from a cupboard she had left open and grabbed a couple of packs of instant oatmeal.  
  
"Right over there."  
  
"Thanks." I finished the oatmeal, mixing it with water and putting it in the microwave while I poured myself a cup of coffee and dug up some honey. Kitty and I quickly made our breakfast and she led us out of the kitchen in the obscenely large dining room where the rest of the X-Men had gathered.  
  
"Hey - the kid finally wakes up," Warren teased, his too-bright smile gracing his features. "I thought you college frat guys slept until the mid afternoon."  
  
"Only on days that end in 'Y'," I replied, sitting down next to him. Ororo sat to his right, with Professor Xavier at the head of the table. Peter, Wolverine, Kitty and.???? sat on the other side of the table. I didn't quite cover up my surprise at seeing the eighth member of the party and paused before sitting down across from him.  
  
"Guten Tag," he said. His accent was strong, but not unpleasant. But his next words almost didn't register. "I have not had the pleasure of making your acquaintance, yet. I am Kurt Wagner."  
  
"Tres," I replied a little more glib than good manners would normally dictate. "Uh - Tres Darkmoon. Nice to meet you." I lowered myself slowly into my chair. Act calm. Act normal! It's not like you haven't seen strange things before, I chided myself.  
  
Kurt was more than strange looking though. He was - unreal! Dark, dark, blue and fuzzy, with only three fingers on each hand. And a tail! And his eyes were yellow. He gave me a pleasant smile, but his brow creased ever so slightly, and I knew my attention had not gone unnoticed. I looked back at my bowl of oatmeal and wondered again for the millionth time what I had gotten myself into.  
  
"I trust you slept well, Mr. Darkmoon," Professor Xavier said before taking a sip of his coffee.  
  
"Very well, thank you," I said after swallowing a mouthful of honey- sweetened Quaker Oats. I sort of concentrated on my coffee and oatmeal, while quietly observing the group. The headmaster nodded politely before turning back to his conversation. He and Ororo seemed to be involved in some heavy discussion with Wolverine putting in a comment every now and then. Peter and Kurt and Kitty were engaged in some playful teasing. Warren had what looked like the Wall Street Journal folded crisply in his hand, his blue eyes roving over the columns of numbers quickly. Hmmmmm.  
  
"Ororo and I had planned to go into town later," Warren said suddenly, not even glancing up from his paper. The early cheerfulness was gone and his tone was clipped and efficient. I had the sudden mental image of him in a dark charcoal gray suit sitting at a board meeting.I shook my head to dispel the thought. "Would you like to come along?"  
  
"Ummmm.Thanks. But I should really study. How long will you be gone?"  
  
"Most likely from 2 to 5." Warren glanced up. "Shopping trip of sorts. Thought maybe you'd like to get out."  
  
"No I shouldn't. I have a final on Monday for a Physical Chemistry course. I really need to study. Thanks, though. Maybe next time."  
  
"Sure," Warren turned back to his paper. "I never liked Chemistry," he said after a moment.  
  
"Oh. It's been - I've been interested in it since I was 12. I'm kind of a science geek," I replied.  
  
"It just never made sense to me. All those letters and symbols and types of bonds." He flipped over the paper and studied the other side.  
  
"Like the stock market makes sense?" I challenged. Warren looked up at me again. "All those columns of numbers.What do they mean? How relevant are they to life? I mean what's the point?"  
  
Kurt muttered something in a language I didn't understand, and his expression looked a little fearful. Warren put the paper down for a second. "You're kidding right?"  
  
"No - I'm not. I don't know anything about the stock market, businesses or anything. Never had a reason to." He put his paper between us.  
  
"Here he goes again," I heard Kitty say under her breath. I looked up at her briefly in confusion. She merely shook her head at me and turned back to Kurt and Peter.  
  
"Right here -" Warren pointed to one column. I finished my breakfast while Warren plunged into a 30 minute dissertation involving stock prices, price to earning ratios, dividends, something called an IPO and more - I know I forgot more than I retained. I don't claim to be able to function before the first cup of coffee, and digestion is complete. And even though I had no real interest in the stock market, I will admit - Warren knew his stuff. Unfortunately, it was too early on a Saturday morning for a financial accounting lesson. It was too early in the morning for cartoons, for that matter.  
  
I'd managed to finish my oatmeal and coffee in the midst of the lecture. Warren didn't miss a beat, and he only paused to sip his coffee once. Warren would've made a fine professor.If a school could afford to pay him enough. I didn't know much about the blond haired pretty-boy, but plenty of my classmates and fellow students had come from rich families; Warren exuded some of the same traits as them - the self-assured confidence that came from years of getting your way. But, unlike some of the snobs I was going to school with, Warren was genuinely a nice guy. I found myself admiring him, even if my mind had wandered onto other more pertinent topics - like how much studying I'd have to do today and how hard my finals would be in a few days.  
  
Warren got up to take his breakfast dishes to the kitchen. I - like an enthralled minion - followed along as he kept up the dialogue. While rinsing our plates and cups, Warren wrapped up the discussion with an explanation of bonds, cd's and money market accounts. He wiped his hands on a dishtowel, slung it over one shoulder, and leaned against the sink. "More than you bargained for this early in the morning?"  
  
I shook my head slightly. "It's just a lot to absorb - at any time. I'm more of a 'techy'. I've always wanted to be an engineer. The financial world just doesn't make sense to me."  
  
"Well - we can always talk more, there's a great deal to understand. You might be here for a while so we should have time - if you're interested."  
  
"Well.I do have finals coming up. But after that - sure." What does he mean, '.a while.'? "In fact - I do need to start studying." Kitty and Peter walked in just then, idly chatting.  
  
"The professor said you're going to be in the Danger Room tomorrow and that you're to get fitted for a costume today," Warren said, folding his arms across his chest.  
  
"Ummmmm.yeah. I guess," I replied with a non-committal tone.  
  
"I can show you to the lower levels where you can get fitted for a few suits. Then the library so you can study for your tests." Warren harrumphed and shook his head slightly. "Finals - better you than me," he said with a mild look of distaste.  
  
"You do what you have to do," I replied. Although I sometimes wondered how much I would do in the pursuit of education.How far I'd go. I shrugged. Just then, the Professor wheeled into the kitchen followed by Ororo. Professor Xavier turned away from the tall woman to regard Warren and I.  
  
"I would hate to dissuade students from developing strong personal ties by terminating this social time, but Tres does have a very demanding schedule over the course of the next few days. I recommend we take him for his fitting then allow him to study. Warren - perhaps you would serve as a surrogate tour guide today, before you and Ororo leave for West Chester?" It wasn't so much of a suggestion as an edict.  
  
"Sure thing, Professor," Warren agreed. "Ready Tres?"  
  
"Yeah, sure," I replied. "'Bye," I said to Ororo, Professor Xavier and the others.  
  
"We will talk later," Professor Xavier, informed me.  
  
"Okay," I agreed hastily before following behind the winged blond man. "Kitty tells me the suits are made from unstable molecules," I started. Wall-Street-Warren melted away to the more care-free guy that wasn't too many years my senior.  
  
Warren nodded as we left the kitchen and started down the hallway. "Very well designed. They provide insulation and are resistant to a lot different forms of energy expended while we use our powers." He re- shuffled his wings slightly, and the thought occurred to me that I'd seen birds do the exact same thing. I had to laugh - silently, of course.  
  
"Will this fitting take long?"  
  
"No - quick and painless," he quipped. "We've all been through it. Sure you don't want to come with us into West Chester?"  
  
I shook my head. "I really have to study." It'd be nice to get back to something normal, I thought. "Thanks again, though."  
  
"The library's a good place to study," Warren suggested as we stopped in front of the elevator. He pressed the down arrow and we waited for the doors to open.  
  
He's really trying to be helpful. "Can you show me where it is?" I asked as the doors slid silently open and we stepped inside.  
  
"Yes. After we get done down here, we can drop off the training suits at your room, get your books and I'll show you where the library is. Then you can have 'hours of uninterrupted study time'." His voice took on a more official tone at that last part. I laughed.  
  
"Thanks. I'd really appreciate that." We arrived at the proper floor and exited.  
  
"No problem. You've probably seen quite a few strange things in the last twenty-four hours. More than you wanted. I remember what it was like when I . . ." Warren paused and sadness flashed across his jovial features for a moment. "When I first joined the X-Men. Everything's new.different. Strange. You're just trying to make sense of it all." That kinda summed up the way I felt.four years ago.  
  
"It's not so bad." This time I paused to reflect. "I've - I've been through.I've seen stranger things," I said with a small private smile.  
  
"Oh really?" Warren said with a tone of casual interest.  
  
"Yeah - maybe some day I'll tell you about that."  
  
"I'm all ears." Warren clapped me on the shoulder, good-naturedly. "Now let's get you into wardrobe. You'll be a member of the team in no time." Great! I thought. Just what I wanted.  
  
Warren was right; getting fitted for the costume was quick and painless. Basically, this machine scanned you with a pair of electronic "eyes" and then you got to program in the uniform you wanted. Warren selected the standard black-and-gold number, and out popped a couple in just my size, complete with matching boots. It had taken all of five minutes and soon Warren and I were heading up back upstairs.  
  
I don't know if the Professor had told him to handle me with kid gloves or not, but I wasn't looking a gift horse in the mouth. Amidst all the newness, having a friendly face around made it a little easier. In fact everyone was really nice. It was hard to believe that these people were anything other than your average everyday Joe's.Except they lived in a mansion and had the collective firepower to level most of New York.  
  
Warren dropped me off at the library with my books, notebooks, and highlighters telling me that he'd see me at lunch. I thanked him again for the millionth time that day and dove headfirst into my physical chemistry text.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The way I liked to study was to go over the important points and the really difficult concepts, explain them in my own words, and then compile a study sheet. I usually did the last part on the computer, printing it out so I could review at my leisure. Xavier had some pretty nice equipment in terms of computers and printers, far more advanced than what was in the computer clusters back at school. I was just starting to type up a study sheet on Chapter 5 when a voice startled me.  
  
"Forgive me, tovarisch. I did not mean to surprise you."  
  
"Peter - Hi," I said, coming back to the real world. "It's okay." I just didn't see or 'scan' you I thought silently.  
  
"It is lunch time, are you joining us?"  
  
"I am hungry, thanks for the invite," I replied. I stretched a little before prying myself out of the office chair. "What time is it?" I looked in vain for a clock.  
  
"12:30," Peter replied.  
  
"Already? Sheesh - time flies, I guess."  
  
Peter smiled. "What subject were you studying?" He asked, leading us out of library.  
  
"P. Chem. It's actually a -" I started to plunge head first into a dissertation on my studies. But I noticed a confused look on Peter's face.  
  
"What is 'P. Chem.'?"  
  
"P. Chem. Physical Chemistry." I hurriedly explained. "Sorry - I'm so used to speaking in acronyms at school. Sometimes I forget." Peter nodded in understanding. "The full title is Physical Chemistry of Macromolecules. It's actually a graduate level class. I'm thinking about going to grad school. I just don't know yet.I'll need to decide next year, I guess. When I'm a senior." If I still wanted to go to grad school. Correction - if I make it to my senior year. That thought was too morbid for me to voice aloud, so I held my tongue. Luckily, we rounded a corner and walked right into Kitty Pryde - who served as a perfect change of subject.  
  
We greeted the youngest pupil at Xavier's in chorus. Kitty's smile brightened noticeably.  
  
"Hi," she replied with an almost imperceptible shyness.  
  
"We are going to lunch, Katya," Peter said.  
  
"Won't you join us?" I added in quickly.  
  
Kitty smiled, sliding in between us. "How goes the studying?"  
  
"It's going." I paused, gathering my thoughts. "And you? Big plans for today?" She shook her head, curls bouncing slightly.  
  
"Pretty much the same. I'll be going to work out later today in the gymnasium. That's the extent of my excitement for the day."  
  
"I will be training later today," Peter put in. "I have finished my work out before lunch."  
  
"Training?" I asked.  
  
"Combat," Kitty added, and Peter confirmed. "No official session today, but we can practice on our own in the Danger room or the gym."  
  
"Wolverine has shown me several new techniques this week. I should practice them," he explained.  
  
"I see."  
  
"Professor Xavier said that you kick box, Tres," Kitty probed.  
  
"Well - yes. Just for a few years. It's good exercise."  
  
"We have several types of bags and other equipment that may be useful in your own personal training, if you are interested," Peter supplied.  
  
"Really?" My interest piqued. Then my eyes widened. "Oh crud! I forgot to tell my instructor I wouldn't be in today.I'll have to call him, to let him know that I will be out of training for a while." At least until things cool down.  
  
"Is your trainer difficult to work with?"  
  
"He's pretty forgiving," I started to say. "He'll just make me run more laps than usual to teach me 'the value of effective communication'."  
  
"You should try working out with Wolverine," Kitty said half under her breath as we stepped off the last stair and walked the short distance to the kitchen.  
  
"Uh.Hmmmmm.We'll see," I said noncommittally. Like I haven't spent enough time getting beat up by non-mutants.But just then my stomach grumbled a little bit, forcing me to focus on more mundane topics - like lunch. Kitty and Peter continued on forward, but I slowed a little, hanging back to observe. I ended up entering the kitchen a step-and-a-half behind the other two.  
  
Lunch was a little more active than breakfast with people going in and out of the refrigerator for whatever they needed, opening and closing cabinets, pouring drinks, toasting bread - burning it, throwing it away and re- toasting. Ororo, Wolverine, Kurt, and Warren were already there. I paused for a moment, not wanting to get in anyone's way, but Kitty pulled me gently by the elbow when she saw me hanging back.  
  
"It's okay," she insisted. She was very small, but the 'hostess' in her must have taken over because she sort of steered me through the X-Men who moved as if the whole routine were choreographed. I (under Kitty's supervision) managed to snag sandwich fixings and a pickle and glass without bumping or disrupting everyone else's activities.  
  
By the time I had finished putting my lunch together, Kitty and I were alone in the kitchen. She waited patiently then lead me back out to the dining room where the rest of the group was already seated. Kitty once again sat next to Wolverine and I sat at the end next to Peter. Warren, Ororo, and Professor Xavier were at one end of the expansive table. The weather-controller was refereeing an animated discussion between Warren and the professor about...well...about something money related. I couldn't quite follow, but it sounded reminiscent of this morning's dissertation I had received from the Xavier Institute's Professor of Finance. Wolverine and Peter were talking about hand-to-hand combat tactics with Kurt observing silently. Kitty looked on, yet seemed reserved. I smiled at her when she glanced at me.  
  
"How goes the studying?" Kitty asked.  
  
"It's going somewhere.Not quite sure where," I said, letting the exasperation creep into my voice. I took a bite of my turkey sandwich and chewed thoughtfully.  
  
"Don't like the class?"  
  
"It's not that.It's just a lot to deal with right now. Who really needs finals?" I shrugged and the littlest X-Man grinned. "It won't be so bad."  
  
"Yeah - it'll be over soon. And then you'll be on winter vacation."  
  
"If I survive," I replied, taking another bite of my sandwich. Kitty's brow furrowed. "Finals.I mean."  
  
"You have to get through your Danger Room session tomorrow - then you can worry about finals," Kitty quipped.  
  
"Yes, Ma'am." I gave her a mock salute then began to tear into my lunch with gusto. I smiled to myself, feeling better about things already.  
  
* * * * *  
  
I sat alone on the roof of the mansion, beneath the stars on this clear winter's eve. The wind whistled by, carrying with it bits of snow. Cradling my head in my left hand, I watched the way the flakes twisted around, completely controlled by the errant wind. I didn't need to think too deeply about the weather and the analogous metaphor to my life as of late. Poor Tres, lost on the wind.Cold and alone.Helpless under the winds of misfortune.  
  
"It does not help," a calm voice behind me advised.  
  
"What doesn't?" I didn't need to turn around. I recognized the voice without using my scanning power to identify the woman.  
  
"Self pity," Ororo stated evenly. "Regret. Helplessness. It is your life, Tres." I smiled to myself as she came to stand beside. "Yours to do with as you choose."  
  
I arched an eyebrow at her frank and deadly accurate statement. "Did you inherit some of Professor Xavier's telepathy?" I couldn't quite keep the sarcasm out of my voice.  
  
Ororo assumed a lotus position beside me. "Nearly all the X-Men have come to the roof."  
  
"For the same reason?"  
  
"To think. To wonder. To question. What are we doing here?" Her voice had taken on a far off quality. "Where did we lose control?" The wind howled loudly. When it died down, she continued, in a new tone. "It is easy to forget that the people around you are here to help; you are not alone. Whatever it is you are feeling, whatever it is you are dealing with, you do not have to close yourself off from those around you."  
  
There was a long silence while I mulled that over. "I don't know you all really well. And I don't know what's to come. I'm used to being in control and doing everything myself. Independent." And I like it that way, I added as an afterthought.  
  
"It does not have to be that way. Sometimes in life, being independent is not sufficient to overcome the challenges you may have to face," she informed me.  
  
"And making friends and being part of a team, can open yourself up to a whole world of pain, Ororo. I've been there," I replied firmly. It was my turn to be nostalgic. "You know what happens when you open up? When you try to act human? To care? Somebody or something - life - punches you in the stomach. It's easier to just harden your heart. Rely on yourself. Safer, that way."  
  
"It is not always enough. You are not always enough, to handle every incident, every situation in life. Friends - family - can help you through the difficult times."  
  
"Maybe I've already tried that Ororo. Maybe it didn't end well. Maybe I decided to try another tactic, so people around me don't get hurt."  
  
"Tres," she began softly, "- people are getting hurt in this world all the time. Shutting yourself off from the world is not going to stop the suffering - stop the pain. Feelings - emotions, both pleasant and unpleasant - let you know you are alive."  
  
"Yes. I'm alive. But what about the people who aren't? Or the people that don't know they are alive? If I just stay away from people and my powers, then it makes sense to me that there's a higher probability that . . . that I won't get hurt. And no one around me will get hurt. And that's less suffering that I have to deal with. Or inflict." The selfishness of my own words echoed in my ears. It was some time before my companion spoke.  
  
"Do you think that not interacting with people will stop them from hating you because of who you are? Or what you can do? Just because you do not wish to care about someone else does not mean that you will not have emotion inflicted upon you, does it? Or that no one will be interested in you because you are not interested in them? "You are a mutant, Tres. It is a part of you. Trying to run from it would be like trying to run from yourself. Because of that, some one will always be interested in you. You have power. Power that could be used by others for their own purposes. "You have tried to shut yourself off from people. From the entire world, perhaps. But the world, it seems, is not content to leave you alone. You do not want to hear this, Tres, but it is highly likely that someone - some innocent bystander - was hurt in today's encounter. Are you telling me that you do not feel compassion or concern for those that may have inadvertently be injured?"  
  
I looked away from her; I couldn't stand to see her face with the harsh reality settling in. "I didn't ask to be attacked. I didn't ask for that. I didn't even ask for these powers. It wasn't my fault. And I . . . I don't -"  
  
"You can not say it, Tres. Because you do you care. By denying that, you are again denying part of yourself. You have tried to repress your feelings and your powers. You have succeeded for a time, but you can not maintain this composure - this control - forever." She rose gracefully. I could feel her gentle gaze upon me, and I felt the - the pain, the concern. She watched me for a moment longer.  
  
"I did not tell you before, Tres. About this roof. Every X-Man before you that has come here, stares out into the night sky, each in a different direction. But we are all looking towards the same thing."  
  
"And what's that, Ororo?" I asked, not even trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice.  
  
"Home," she said simply. "What we each realize, eventually, is that we should each be looking here," she indicated the roof, and the mansion. "We should each be looking down, not out into the night sky. This is home." And then, with the gentlest of winds, Ororo lifted off from the roof, leaving me in the cold. Without and within.  
  
This story © 2002 Sherman L Taylor, II  
Clayton "Tres" Darkmoon © 2002 Sherman L Taylor, II  
The X-Men, Professor Charles Xavier, and all constituent  
characters © 2002 Marvel Comics Group.  
This story is not for sale and is not to be distributed without  
permission of the author.  
  
Please electronically mail comments to CommanderInChf@aol.com.  
All constructive criticism is appreciated. 


	9. Interlude A: Invisible Woman

Interlude A  
  
Invisible Woman  
  
* * * * *  
  
Her eyelids felt heavy and it took her several moments of concerted effort to force them apart. Harsh light streamed in between the fleshy seals and she quickly clamped her eyes closed. She had the makings of a world-class hangover.  
  
After the world's longest minute - when bile attempted to dislodge itself from her throat and make its entrance into the world - she tried to open her eyes once more. First the left eye.then the right. She blinked once to prove that at least one part of her body was able to function without pain - but she wasn't even allowed that luxury.  
  
God - what was in that drink, she wondered as consciousness crept up on her. Did somebody use my head for batting practice? She attempted to roll over onto her back and then groaned as she moved slightly, the tiniest adjustment in her position sending hot knives of pain driving into the backs of her eyeballs. That halted any further thought of moving, and she merely lay her back down, enjoying the feel of her left cheek against the cool, smooth surface of . . .  
  
Cool, smooth, surface?  
  
She bolted upright or at least attempted to, but pain exploded in her brain and every part of her body. Darkness swallowed her before she could pull herself up to a half-sitting position. As she collapsed back into a fetal position, she realized that she was in some type of a cage. Then nothingness.  
  
* * * * *  
  
When she awoke the second time, the heavy, oppressive pain inside her was less. She was able to roll onto her back, and massage the remainder of the ache from her temples. She slowly opened her eyes, taking a deep calming breath as she assessed her situation. I'm in a cage, my body aches, my head hurts.and my powers are gone, she thought as she reached out with her mind. She closed her eyes in absolute defeat.  
  
Okay.okay.I can handle this. This isn't the first time I've been in tough situations before. It's part of the job. I just need to think. She sat up, fully, curling her legs to her chest, and looked at her surroundings. Her vision seemed a little blurred, and her head still hurt, but as far as she could see, she was in a completely barren room. It was fairly, dark; the only light was a pale yellow fluorescent that was directly above her.cage.  
  
She reached out and stroked the bars, half expecting a shock or something worse. Nothing. She wrapped her hands around one bar, and tugged, testing its strength. It didn't budge, nor did the cage itself. She scooted around a little, trying to move it, but was rewarded with nothing. The whole thing must be anchored somehow. There didn't even appear to be a lock.  
  
She rose unsteadily, to her feet and pressed her palms against the ceiling of the cage. Standing on her tiptoes, she could just reach it. She attempted to push the lid of the cage up and off, but it wouldn't budge either. She cursed silently. There must be a mechanism or something. She looked around carefully, studying her small, neat prison.  
  
After a moment, her drug-addled brain figured it out. The bars, some, at least, must come up from the floor. That must mean there is a release or a lever or something that can cause them to lower. Perhaps if she could find that release, if it were in the room.  
  
She began looking around then, in earnest. Squinting her eyes, she gazed through the darkness. If her powers had been operational, it would have been a simple matter to suss out the location of the lever. If only.If only.If wishes were breaths, she'd have wished herself out of here, too. But she couldn't and so what was the use of thinking about 'if'.  
  
After several minutes of careful examination, she deteremined that there was nothing in the room except her cage and the light. Not even a door. "What the hell?" she growled to herself in frustration.  
  
Just then, a sound behind her caused her to rethink the bareness of her environment. A crack of light appeared in the far wall, widening as a panel that hadn't been there a moment before slid silently open. A man- shaped object stood in the doorframe.  
  
"Good morning and welcome," a cool unctuous voice stated simply. "I trust your accommodations were to your liking. Although I am sure they are not what one of your exalted status is accustomed to." As he stepped further into the light, recognition dawned on her. The sudden shock, coupled with her already tortured physiology was too much. The rest of what he was saying faded away into nothingness.along with her consciousness.  
  
This story © 2002 Sherman L Taylor, II  
Clayton "Tres" Darkmoon © 2002 Sherman L Taylor, II  
The X-Men, Professor Charles Xavier, and all constituent  
characters © 2002 Marvel Comics Group.  
This story is not for sale and is not to be distributed without  
permission of the author.  
  
Please electronically mail comments to CommanderInChf@aol.com.  
All constructive criticism is appreciated. 


	10. Chapter 7part 1: Microscope

Chapter 7  
Microscope "People want the illusion of choice without having to make a decision at  
all."  
***** Introduction & Chapters 1 - 6 Synopsis  
  
Thus far, we have met Clayton "Tres" Darkmoon III, an undergraduate, teenage mutant. Tres has attracted the attention of the X-Men and, it would appear, some less than savory eyes. The X-Men rescue Tres from a battle with several Sentinels and the entire group returns to the manse. While the group of super-powered mutants extends the hand of friendship, Tres seems hesitant to take it. Hesitation or not, Professor Xavier is interested in Tres' abilities as a mutant and plans for him to attend his first Danger Room session, but Tres seems more interested in returning to his life. As such, he ends up spending most of Saturday in the library; studying for finals or hiding? Regardless, the day passes and now it is time for Tres to enter the Danger Room.  
  
*****  
"Don't be nervous," Warren advised me. He clapped me on the shoulder good-naturedly. "On second thought - be nervous. It's normal to be nervous the first time. Everyone was." We were in the holding area near the Danger Room. I had gotten up early in anticipation of the session and dressed in my room. Warren - Angel, when he was in costume - had escorted me downstairs and now remained behind to give me some friendly advice.  
  
"Did everyone survive their first time, though?"  
  
"Well - if you don't - we have a special place back by the lake."  
  
My eyes widened. "WHAT?!?"  
  
"Just kidding, Tres," he said with a laugh. I exhaled slowly and evenly. "Speaking of which, we should think about getting you a code name." My eyes grew even wider, while he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Overpower, or Night Light, maybe Starburst."  
  
"Warren," I groaned, "- give me a break. Please!" Warren just laughed harder.  
  
"I'm just trying to help you relax. You can't do your best if you're tense."  
  
I considered his words. "Thanks, 'Coach'. Soooo.do know you what they have planned for me?"  
  
Warren shook his head. "Not at all. Just that you have to cross the room and get to the exit. Standard first Danger Room sequence."  
  
I nodded solemnly. "Okay."  
  
"Don't worry, Tres. It's not like the room will try to kill you. Well - it may seem like that at the time. Remember - it's a 'test of your powers and your ability to know how to best to use them'.When you're ready - just let the Professor know via the intercom." Warren stood, his wings rustling slightly behind him as he left the room. "Good luck," he called back over his shoulder.  
  
"Thanks.Angel," I replied before the door swooshed shut behind him. I sat for a moment longer on the low bench in the waiting room before walking towards the large metal door. Next to it was the intercom. I pressed the 'Talk' button. "I'm ready down here, Professor."  
  
"Please enter, Mr. Darkmoon," Professor Xavier's voice came in, after I released the button. The doorway slid open and I stepped just inside. After what Kitty had told me yesterday - I think I was still hung up on the idea that the Danger Room was some kind of "gym". As it turned out - I was pretty far off the mark.  
  
"Wow." First - it was much, much bigger than I'd imagined. No wooden floors and balance beams - that's for sure. The ceiling, floor, and walls were made out of some kind of metal that shined with a strange life- like quality. The floor was composed of small squares - kind of like a monochromatic chessboard. There was a large bay window that overlooked the entire room; it was in the same wall as the door, high above me and to the left. I stared around trying to take it all in, but the Professor snapped me from my reverie.  
  
"Please take up a position in the far corner of the room." A spotlight indicated the correct location at the opposite side of the Danger Room. I jogged over and continued to study the room, while awaiting instructions. From this new vantage point, I could see into the large bay window where Professor Xavier, Storm, and the rest were. I waved and Ororo returned the gesture. I tried not to dwell on the fact that I had a world-renowned audience to impress. "The objective of this exercise is simple: exit the room. In order to exit, you must to lay your palm on the panel to the left of the door," the Professor informed me. The specified panel lit up with a green light that faded to red. "Your session will commence.now."  
  
"Commencing sequence C D Three Gamma One," a cool computer voice intoned. There was a split second of silence after it stopped talking and then I heard the whirring sound of mechanical devices coming to life. On the other side of the room, directly across from me, a section of the floor slid open and something that looked like an enormous jet engine began to rise up. In retrospect, I kicked myself for not reacting faster; here I was, standing in open-mouthed wonder, when I should've been making a run for it.  
  
_What the hell...?_ I had time to wonder before the engine was turned on. It suddenly occurred to me that being directly in the path of any engine was Not A Good Place To Be, and I stepped towards the door a second too late. The whirling blades reached full speed in that moment of indecisiveness, and a sudden tornado-like wind hurled me against the wall; I was pinned in next-to-no-time. I squirmed ineffectively for a few seconds, before I began to use my head.  
  
I wasn't able to move forward, but I could probably move upward. I concentrated, pulling power to me and prepared to "throw" myself out of the jet stream. But just as I came up with a plan, the engine reversed power. I dropped heavily onto the ground, too bewildered to do anything but gasp for air. And in the next instant, I was sucked helplessly into the engine.  
  
I twisted around midair, feet towards the engine and pushed away from it, my powers overcoming the draw. The engine pulled, and I pushed back, and I managed not to get chopped up into little pieces. I had a moment's breathing space to consider what I was going to do, while the drag steadily increased; it forced me to use more and more power just to maintain position. _That's it!_ _Of course!_ This time, I suited thought to action immediately; I stopped fighting the vacuum-like pull of the engine, hurtling suddenly backwards, strengthening my heat shields in the split second it took to traverse the short distance. A moment later, I was through.and the engine was out of commission.  
  
It may have seemed like a ballsy move, but I knew I couldn't really be hurt; my power protected me. I just had to remember to think first - then act. This was a test of my powers and my ability to know how to best use them, Angel's words came back to me. I smiled, congratulating myself on my own ingenuity and mentally thanking Warren for the tip. It was a little premature, also in retrospect. Something snaked around my right ankle and my left arm and jerked me off the ground.  
  
I strained against the metallic tentacles that had silently reached out of the wall and ensnared me. At the end of each tentacle was a four-pronged "hand" with a small opening in the palm. I could only guess at what each hand could do. Meanwhile, I was being hauled upward to the open maw of the "octopus" - a large opening in the wall. I didn't have any idea what would happen if I were pulled into that crevice and I wasn't about to find out. Focusing my power for a second, I superheated the tentacles around my forearm and leg, melting through them. I threw myself backwards in the air, as more arms came in to re-capture me.  
  
I hurled an energy ball as an afterthought, but the mechanical arms disappeared into the wall, and a force field protected it from my power. I took a moment to get my bearings, righted myself in the air, and headed straight for the door. I heard a compartment opening in the wall above me, but continued onward, ignoring the sound. When the net unfurled above me, I moved a second too late and it caught me in the side. A twin net was propelled out of a similar panel in the wall to my right.  
  
Soon I was ensnared in both nets and some sort of force - probably magnetic - dragged me out of the air, to the ground. Landlocked, I thrashed around in vain. Each movement brought a jolt of electricity, not painful, but not pleasant either. _Work smarter_, I reminded myself. I concentrated again, strengthening the thin layer of radiation around my body, thickening it and making it hotter. The nets virtually disintegrated around me and I was once more free.  
  
By now, I had worked myself into the center of the room. I was far from out of the woods, and hesitated wondering what the next threat might be, and where it would come from. I "felt" the pinprick of a laser on my forehead, and looked in its the direction. I didn't even blink as the high- energy ray connected solidly with my chest. I felt a surge of adrenaline as I absorbed the power from the beam. I felt another laser on my back and an identical power boost. The more power that was poured into the lasers, the stronger I got. And so I paused, feeling a slight tingle as the intensity increased then lifted myself up and away from the crossfire. I should have been more careful.paid more attention. Instead, I hurled myself blindly, and directly, into the next danger.  
  
I slammed headfirst into a padded piston that was rapidly descending from the ceiling. The impact knocked the wind out of me, and ramming my skull against the semi-hard stuffing disoriented me. Stunned, I began to descend; the piston pushed me to the ground, adding momentum to my fall. I was suddenly in danger of being pinioned against the floor. A few feet before I could be crushed, I rolled to the side. The piston connected loudly with the ground, but I wasn't trapped between the not-so-proverbial- rock-and-the-hard-place. I was up, and hovering above the floor, trying to shake off the close-call feelings I had. _I could have really been hurt under that thing._ I turned from studying the now-quiescent ram to look pointedly at the Control Room window. _How real was this test supposed to be, anyway?_  
  
The moment's sudden annoyance turned to surprise; another battering ram came at me from the side. Using my radar sense, I dodged right and lifted up into the air, simultaneously. I oriented on the door and again tried to make a break for the exit.  
  
The obstacles came hard and fast, then.  
  
A wall rising up from the floor only slowed me a few seconds; I melted through it. Then a set of pistons, one on each side - and these two weren't cushioned - tried to sandwich me between them. I rose smoothly above them and flew onward, ignoring the fire of several wall-mounted flamethrowers; after all, I couldn't be hurt by fire - surrounded, as I was, by thermal shielding. I felt lasers sighting me again, but dismissed them. After all, lasers wouldn't stop me either.  
  
Xavier was quite resourceful and quick-minded. I learned the hard way that he wouldn't use the same failed trap on me twice. I "saw" a series of small missiles coming towards me from the left. I did a barrel roll, twisting away then dropping vertically to let the projectiles pass harmlessly overhead. I turned momentarily away from the door, to face the launchers. Pointing my hands at them, I let loose with a fresh volley of blue-white energy balls. I was too slow, however; the launchers had pulled back inside the wall, and my powers bounced harmlessly off the Danger Room shields.  
  
My radar sense tracked another set of missiles coming at me from behind. I whirled to face the new threat, blasting each rocket out of the sky. Too easy, I thought smugly. Just like shooting fish in a - THWACK  
  
I grunted, as the 'paddles' of some windmill-like device slapped me in the side. I tumbled wildly through the air before slamming shoulder-first into the wall. I slid to the ground and lay in a crumpled heap, resting, panting, and my heart pounding in my ears. I desperately needed a time- out, but I didn't have a few seconds to spare. I "saw" another set of objects hurtling towards me. I groaned before forcing myself to move again - springing into the air just in time to avoid being pummeled to death. Five heavy medicine balls rebounded off the wall where I had been only seconds ago. They careened off, bouncing around the room while I turned back to the door.  
  
However, instead of taking a direct course to the door, I tried to use a strategy to throw off any pursuit. I zigzagged through the air, in a seemingly erratic manner, but moving unerringly towards the egress. I dodged a rapid succession of spiked cannonballs that could have been very painful; the last one nearly caught me in the side as I tried to zip forward the last few yards to the door. I landed to avoid it, coming to rest in a half-crouch on the ground. Standing up fully, I was prepared to walk triumphantly onward, ending my first Danger Room sequence successfully. Again, I had naively underestimated Professor Xavier.  
  
As I confidently strutted the last few feet to the door, I heard a panel opening behind me. I ignored the over-sized portal in favor of the door, continuing to walk onward. I brought my left foot down and was rewarded with a powerful jolt of electricity a mere three feet from the exit. I jumped backwards and lifted into the air, slightly out of sorts. _Of all the dirty rotten tricks._  
  
But that wasn't the last of them - not by a long shot. A hand - large and cold, grabbed my ankle. Thinking it was another of the mechanical octopi, I simply tried to melt through it. I received another nasty ZAP of electricity and was rewarded by the powerful grip tightening around my ankle and hauling me down out of the air. The static shock mixed with the pain startled me - and very nearly disrupted my control over my powers; _I shouldn't be able to be touched,_ I thought dimly. I tried to twist around to see what had me, but was held fast in a vice-like grip. Once my head cleared, I understood what had happened, but by that time, my captor had thrown/pushed me hard into a wall. I slid to the ground again, still slightly dazed from the electrified floor as well as the jolt I had gotten from whatever had grabbed me.  
  
The doorway I had previously ignored had produced a 10-foot-tall vaguely man-shaped robot with large blocky arms and legs, and a helmet-like head. It was this robot that had tossed me into the wall and was now standing over me, reaching towards me with its voltage-filled grip. I rolled to the side, leaping to my feet.  
  
While the robot looked ungainly, it was unexpectedly quick. It had turned, taking a step towards me, studying me through its visor. But I didn't intend to let it ogle me long or move any closer. At a distance of three feet, it was close enough. Pointing one hand at it, I summoned forth my power, bathing it in cascade of blue-white energy that should have left it so much slag on the floor. But it didn't even slow, walking forward through my power as if I were hurling flowers instead.  
  
I don't know what surprised me more - the fact that it could shrug off my abilities, or the hand that suddenly reached down to grab my right bicep. Instinct took over then as I threw a jab into its 'face'. My balled up fist bounced off its head; again, it hadn't even blinked - or whatever. I think that hurt my pride more than my hand - although my left hand was already starting to smart. I stared dumbly at my captor while it grabbed my other arm and began to lift me into the air. I felt twin stabs of electricity as it released another debilitating shock. It was like being stung by a joy buzzer many times over - irritating and very disorienting.  
  
The pain only made me fight all that much harder. My naïveté towards my powers showed itself then. I am sure I could have calmly and rationally dealt with this final test, but I . . . well - overreacted. That's probably putting it mildly. 'Freaked out' probably best describes the next few moments.  
  
I began throwing off waves of power first, twisting and writhing around trying to break its grasp. Initially, I directed it at my robotic captor, but then as I remained imprisoned, I began to throw a little more wildly. Frantically.  
  
"Let go," I said through gritted teeth, starting to break out in a cold sweat. I could feel the voltage climbing steadily as it continued to shock me every few seconds. Pulling back, I aimed a kick at its face, but my legs weren't as long as its arms and I missed badly.  
  
"Let go," I repeated with a little more authority. I tried to elbow my way out of its hands but instead I banged both my funny bones against its metal forearms. The robot - completely oblivious and uncaring of my efforts to free myself, turned and carried me towards a dark, foreboding cavity nearby. It looked like it meant to put me inside. The raw pain from my joints coupled with the electro-shock "therapy" and the haunting, mysterious door triggered a set of memories from a long time ago. _No._ _Not again._ _Please._  
  
"LET GO!" I roared in pure frustration, the first hint of an icy fear creeping into my mind. Desperate to get away, I even tried to lift us both into the air. But I remained firmly in its hands, and we continued towards the hole. The next bolt of electricity caused my consciousness to dim; my powers flickered briefly, then - like a match threatening to go out. That was when I truly lost it.  
  
I can't really say what happened next - everything went so fast. Looking back, I can say I only remember the next few minutes the way someone remembers a very bad dream.  
  
I felt/heard something breaking - and I wasn't sure at first that it hadn't broken my arm in its iron clad grip. But then I knew it wasn't my arm - and that the something breaking wasn't a bone at all - but someplace in my mind. I stopped struggling in its grasp. A cool calmness settled over me as my power surged from somewhere deep inside. The room was instantly lit with flash of blue-white light. I think I lifted into the air then, pulling the robot with me. I know I somehow broke its hold. There was an exchange of blows, and then we were hurtling through the air.  
  
The next thing I knew I was straddling its chest, punching it in the face. It wasn't long until the head was just a big pulpy mess. But I didn't stop there. I put my hands on its chest and began to pour forth power, melting that too. I think I would've kept going too, except a loud clap of thunder startled me, and a chilling gust of wind tossed me backwards. I landed unceremoniously on the floor, but shifted into a defensive stance, ready to loose my power.  
  
She seemed to hover over me, ethereal. Deadly. Dangerous. The very air seemed to crackle with suppressed power. Her eyes were pure white but even without pupils I could tell she was studying me. "Contain yourself, Tres," she said firmly and confidently. I wanted to lash out hard, a cold wave of fury and vengeance carrying me away, giving me strength. I had completely given in to the feelings a moment ago. But now she was here. And she was trying to pull me back from the brink of oblivion. I blinked, desperate to remember where I was and who she was.  
  
"Ororo." She dipper her head ever so slightly in acknowledgement. It was then that I noticed the Professor and Wolverine behind her. There was a long moment while we sized each other up. Then Storm stepped forward offering me a hand. I took it, and she hauled me easily to my feet. When I looked into her face once more, her eyes had returned to their normal blue. I could've been mistaken but I thought I saw concern and - sadness?  
  
"I'm sorry," I mumbled as the enormity of what had just happened settled in. The Professor's expression was hard to read; he was sitting straight- up in his chair, shoulders squared and jaw clenched tightly. But Wolverine looked at me as I expected the others to - with the keen intensity of a lion set to pounce. He was a predator that was weighing whether or not I - an intruder - was worth bloodying his paws with. I couldn't look at him and so my gaze settled on the floor. I gave a low whistle, finally able to take in my surroundings.  
  
The robot or what was left of it lay on the floor. From about mid-chest and above was a mixture of molten/softened metal. I realized then that it was lying in the foyer - outside of the Danger Room. "I got carried away.I'm sorry. I don't - I'm sorry," I said again. Ororo laid a reassuring hand on one shoulder.  
  
Wolverine harrumphed, folding his arms across his broad chest. He regarded me with one bushy eyebrow raised, a smile threatening to disrupt his streak of constant glowering. "Ya got style, kid," he said in his gravelly deep voice.  
  
"Uh." I began intelligently. Then I closed my gaping mouth. _No need to look like a complete ass today, is there?_  
  
"We will discuss this later during the debriefing," Professor Xavier said simply. "Let's try to resume our normal activities in lieu of this incident." And that was it.At least for the time being.  
  
* * * * *  
-End Part 1-  
  
This story © 2003 Sherman Taylor  
Clayton "Tres" Darkmoon © 2002 Sherman Taylor  
The X-Men, Professor Charles Xavier, and all constituent  
characters © 2003 Marvel Comics Group.  
This story is not for sale and is not to be distributed without  
permission of the author.  
  
Please electronically mail comments to CommanderInChf@aol.com.  
All constructive criticism is appreciated. 


	11. Chapter 7part 2: Microscope

Chapter 7  
  
Microscope  
  
"People want the illusion of choice without having to make a decision at  
all."  
  
* * * * *  
  
I joined Professor Xavier and Kitty in the Control Room to watch the team sequence. Once the initial ten minutes of post-workout adrenaline wore off, I began to feel the after-effects of the previous day's worth of study, exorbitant stress, little sleep, emotional fatigue, and no breakfast. Although watching the team practice was interesting, my eyelids began to droop. I had to pinch myself just to stay awake. Hard.  
  
Through all that, Kitty explained to me various abilities of the Danger Room, and some previous tricks and traps the Professor had used. Kitty hadn't been privy to my sequence, and Professor Xavier hadn't said anything to her; her manner was just as friendly as usual. I had time to wonder whether she'd be as cordial if she'd knew what I'd just done.  
  
Kitty wasn't partaking in a team run, yet. So she mostly watched and tried to glean as much information as possible from the others, so as to be prepared for the time when she could join a full session. They don't look all that great, I thought sarcastically, as a look of longing came into her eyes. But I merely nodded, encouraging her to continue. After the team session ended, and Professor Xavier had powered down the Danger Room, the three of us left.  
  
"They usually debrief after breakfast," Kitty whispered to me as we made our way to the elevator where we rendezvoused with the rest of the X- Men. The infamous team members and I parted company once we reached the ground level of the manse, each heading to our various post Danger Room tasks. I imagined that, like me, the others were going to shower and change. Although, I was the only one looking odd in the bumblebee outfit.  
  
Once I got back to my room, it took me several long moments of intense effort to extricate myself from the costume. At one point, I seriously thought about burning it off - but then reconsidered. If it had already survived my powers during the training session, then it could probably take a fair amount of punishment.Argh! _Why is it that heroes leave out the part about having to undress and bathe during their adventures when you read about them in novels or see them in movies?_ I made up some time by having a short shower, 'drying', dressing, then heading downstairs. I resisted the urge to use my powers to fly through the mansion and instead walked to the dining room; I didn't know how the "public" use of my powers would be received and decided to follow from everyone else's example of nonuse.  
  
Today I arrived on the scene before everyone except Professor Xavier and Ororo. So this time, instead of sitting at the end of the group, I sat next to Professor Xavier, across from Ororo. Warren, Kitty and the rest settled in around us, and breakfast commenced. It was the same animated affair as yesterday except this time I could observe all three conversations going-on at the same time. I believe the Professor and Ororo were discussing strategy about mutant/non-mutant/anti-mutant relations - a topic I sorely wanted to avoid. Warren was giving another financial lesson - this time to Kurt and Kitty. Kurt, however, appeared more interested in Peter and Wolverine's chat about some sort of martial arts fight they'd seen. From the way they were describing certain blows and kicks, it sounded like they had actually been there.  
  
Everyone had seemed at ease with me during the short elevator ride, and sitting at the table before we started eating - the only times we'd been together as a group. I don't know.I guess I expected everyone to recoil in horror at what I'd done. But no one had brought it up, yet. _What would they say?_ _Would they think differently about me now?_ _Maybe no one cared._ I stared into the coffee as if it were a crystal ball, revealing the answers to my questions.  
  
_It's stupid to think they'd treat me any differently, I guess_. Following their exploits on the news - as well as other groups like the Avengers and the FF - I knew they'd probably seen or done much stranger things. But in their own home? Plus being new.I didn't know how well it'd go over to have someone walking around that might or might not be 'unstable'.Especially if that person could literally melt you with a thought. And I'm that person.  
  
"And what might your perspective be, Mr. Darkmoon?" The Professor asked lightly.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
Ororo smiled benignly. "Professor Xavier and I were discussing the ramifications of our current 'reactive' tactics for dealing with mutant- related incidences. Specifically, we are discussing instances where mutants are creating public disturbances, or are directly responsible for large amounts of property damage. Generally, these types of events - which have happened frequently in past years - can increase the fervor of anti- mutant feelings from non-mutants. Perhaps employing a different stratagem would reduce hostilities and anxieties on both sides. Your thoughts?"  
  
Oh. Just something simple to ponder while I slowly swallowed a mouth full of oatmeal. Professor Xavier looked thoughtfully at me, his fingers steepled before him, lips pressed against his two thumbs. I suddenly got the impression that I was still being tested - regardless of the fact that I'd left the Danger Room over 30 minutes ago. "Well -" I began, trying to slowly collect my thoughts. "I guess the alternative would have to be a proactive strategy. Kind of like - 'the best defense is a good offense' rationale, right?" I looked first at Ororo and then back at the Professor. They looked expectantly at me, obviously waiting for me to continue.  
  
_Guess I'm not going to weasel out of this one so easily._ "Then, I guess we - or rather - you all would need a foreknowledge of a potential crime, then you could show up before it happened and stop the criminal.or criminals. I guess all you'd need is some way to predict a crime before it actually took place. Maybe a clairvoyant or something." Here Professor Xavier - whether intentionally or not - gently stroked his brow. ".Or a telepath. And all this telepath would have to do, I guess, is read the mind of the criminal - and then the X-Men - or whomever - would go and stop him before he caused any trouble."  
  
"Do you see any areas where such a strategy might be fallible?" Professor Xavier asked. His eyes bored into me - and I had a fleeting thought that I was back in a classroom at school and the teacher had just asked me a question that was nearly impossible to answer.  
  
I paused to consider, realizing I was probably going to be graded on my next few statements, and there would not be an opportunity for bonus points or make-up exams. "Well." The answer was I didn't really see what the problem was with my idea. It could make crime prevention a whole helluva lot easier. _Maybe that would calm the rising anti-mutant hysteria. Then it'd be safe for mutants everywhere._  
  
"No.I guess not," I began. But even as the words passed my lips, I sensed that I'd given the wrong answer.  
  
The Professor paused momentarily as if collecting himself and I waited, expecting his rebuttal to rain down on me like Zeus hurling bolts of lighting. However, I hadn't needed to worry about god-like wrath - at least not at the breakfast table. "Have you ever tried to extend your powers across the globe, Mr. Darkmoon?" He asked evenly.  
  
"No," I said.  
  
"Then you propose, perhaps a regional sphere of influence?"  
  
"I guess - if that's what could be managed."  
  
"And how would the telepath be able to discern the difference between a fantasy, a whimsical train of thought, and a deed that was truly to be executed?" He asked.  
  
"I don't know," I replied lamely.  
  
"Furthermore, do you think that it is for this clairvoyant or telepath to be the moral and ethical compass for the entire planet? Or rather - as you have proposed - a hemispherical portion of the globe. "  
  
"Well - no - I hadn't thought of that."  
  
"Then you do not believe it is the role of mutants to be the conscience of humanity?"  
  
"Certainly not." was my immediate answer - but was it the right answer? _Or just what he wanted to hear._  
  
"Consider, if you will, that what you are proposing would effectively be removing the ability for someone - anyone - to choose his or her own path, to consciously decide between right and wrong - or between the lesser of two evils - and that this is, in fact, the moral or ethical dilemma that every person is often forced to deal with on their own. The type of choice that, in no small part, defines a person's individuality? And do you agree that this would be the result of such a pre-emptive action?"  
  
"Yes - I guess it would." The words sounded hollow and weak in my ears. _What's he driving at, anyway_, I wondered feeling a little annoyed.  
  
The Professor took a sip of his coffee. "Let's consider a hypothetical situation. For the sake of argument, let's assume that it is wrong to hunt mutants."  
  
I nodded - now believing silence to be the best course of action. Meanwhile, Wolverine and Peter droned on, while I heard Kitty's light laughter above Kurt and Warren's exchange.  
  
"Let us also assume that a team of mutants, one equipped with a telepath, has gained knowledge of a potential new weapon - something that will enhance the ability to hunt, detain, and - for lack of a better word - 'exterminate' mutant kind." Again I nodded mutely. "Let us also say, that for the sake of argument, that this new weapon is in its infancy - more theory than practice, mostly drawings, and the earliest of prototypes. In other words, no actual full scale working designs. Finally, let's assume that there are only a handful of people involved in this project and with no government sanctions or interactions."  
  
I cleared my throat. "Okay."  
  
"Now, the team of mutants, having gained this 'forewarning' of the creation of the new weapon, formulates a plan of attack. Before this new threat can be unleashed on all mutant-kind, they proactively nullify it. It is a simple matter to destroy the laboratory and the relatively small amount of work of a few people.  
  
"But what is to be done about the involved parties? The thoughts and ideas were originated within this small group that could eventually lead to the annihilation of all mutant-kind? Are these scientists to be sentenced to the same fate that they had intended for mutants? They had intended to help bring about the termination of mutant-kind - is not a similar fate being dealt to them a just and fair decree? And if not death - then what is to stop them from merely re-initiating their work?  
  
"Or should they be left alone after their information and work has been destroyed? Would this effectively thwart their plans? For how long? Won't they continue their work with greater ardor than before? Would this now have defeated the purpose of the original objective? Perhaps, you are recommending that the telepath of the group should remove such thoughts and ideas from their minds.?" He looked to me for affirmation.  
  
I tried to come up with a valid counter point, but the Professor arguments staggered me. Mutant moral brigades, selective mind wiping, mutant hunting - all my thoughts seemed jumbled together with nothing intelligent escaping the chaotic mess. I could feel his eyes drilling into me even when I looked away. There was a moment of silence where I was too stupefied to do anything but stare at my empty bowl.  
  
"Perhaps we could examine a broader argument," the Professor continued. I blinked dully.More? I thought. "Instead of a mutant-based hate crime, let us assume something more generalized - a robbery, for example. Or a murder?  
  
"Again - for the sake of the hypothetical situation, assume that one person intends to kill another. The individual possessing psionic abilities of the mutant crime-stopping team predicts this with a certainty of 90%. Also - for the sake of argument - assume that the team decides to apprehend the criminal long before the act is to be committed - approximately 48 hours.  
  
"The team, therefore, arrives at the home of the would-be criminal, and in some manner blunts the murderous rage and intentions. What are the options to do so? Does the mutant team mete out their own brand of justice? An eye for an eye, perhaps? Or does the team employ some form of scare tactics? Surely removing all weapons from the soon-to-be criminal would not be sufficient? Simply put - what could be done to keep the crime from actually taking place?"  
  
Again - I struggled to follow his whirlwind of logic. _Suppose the X-Men did show up before the murder? What then? Take away the gun and give the guy a slap on the wrist? Would that work? Fat lot of good it would do.He could always go out and get another gun. You could take away the instrument - but not the intent._  
  
"I believe there would be graver consequences to such an action, Professor," Ororo interrupted for the first time. Maybe she could sense my frustration. "If the team were to intercede on behalf of the intended victim.it could lead to a transference of aggression. The hostilities of the 'criminal' would instead be redirected at mutants, increasing the fervor of anti-mutant sentiments. This outcome would then be counterproductive to the existence of the X-Men. Furthermore, since there would be only proof in the word of the single mutant that predicted the crime, it would not be possible to initiate an arrest. Therefore, the criminal would now be free."  
  
Allowing him or her to add to the anti-mutant feelings, I added silently. "Well, there must be other options," I blurted out. "Other than waiting for it to happen - better ways to be prepared." I was no dummy; I'd watched the news pretty closely in the last four years and followed anti- mutant reports. It'd been pretty hard to miss, actually. Watching the news always left a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach because the newscasters were usually blatantly feeding their own anti-mutant feelings to the public.  
  
"Please feel free to propose a new course of action at any time," Professor Xavier said evenly. "A new perspective is always welcome."  
  
_I think I'll keep my ideas to myself_. Debating with the Professor was like wrestling with a rabid lion. Not something I had any desire to do again. But all I said was "Okay." As I started to get up, the Professor added one final comment.  
  
"Ororo and I will meet with you at 11 am to discuss your Danger Room sequence. In my office, if you please." It wasn't a question. I could feel several pairs of eyes on me, and the blood rushed to my cheeks as I recalled the earlier. 'incident'.  
  
"Uh sure," I said, before picking up my breakfast dishes and retreating into the kitchen. I turned on the water in the sink and began to rinse out my bowl of oatmeal and coffee cup, then paused leaning heavily on the counter. I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe evenly and slowly. It wasn't even 9:30 and I already felt like I was ready for bed. Well at least my mental and physically training were done for the day - at least I hoped so. Now I just had to make it through the next 14 hours without having any more episodes - or getting any more Meaningful Looks from the others.  
  
I was startled when the door opened unexpectedly. I hurried to finish cleaning my dishes and put them in the dishwasher, pointedly ignoring whoever came in. I kept my back to the person, so I wouldn't encourage conversation - especially if it were Professor Xavier. In my haste, I hadn't even scanned to see whom it was, consciously holding my powers in check. I wasn't even sure who had come into the kitchen until I turned away from the dishwasher to leave.  
  
Warren was washing out his own dishes in the sink. He was half- turned, regarding me with a grave expression. I don't know how long he'd been standing there like that. I paused - then mentally kicked myself; once again, I wasn't heading for the door when I should have been. Warren cleared his throat and said in a soft voice, "I was only kidding about the code name 'Overpower'." He gave me a slightly reproachful look at the same time. It spoke volumes.  
  
My jaw dropped in shock. I felt my gut twist and my throat constrict. _I guess that answers my earlier question._ _Oh well - it was nice having other mutant friends while it lasted._ There was a moment of protracted silence while Warren studied my open-mouthed expression. Then he broke into a broad jovial grin, his eyes twinkling mischievously. He began to chuckle. Loudly. I was torn between wanting to punch him and wanting to laugh out loud.  
  
Eventually the latter desire won out and soon I was laughing so hard I had to sit down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen. Ever had a really stressful day? One where you're emotionally and physically exhausted, and something semi-funny starts you giggling? Well, soon you're roaring hysterically, practically forgetting what it was that you were laughing about to begin with... Well, this was one of those times. I think it's therapeutic - maybe laughter is the best medicine sometimes; you expunge yourself of all the angst. It certainly worked for me right now. "That wasn't funny," I managed to gasp eventually. This only made Warren laugh harder. "Remind me to kick your butt later."  
  
Warren stopped laughing, his eyebrows bunching together in a concerned scowl. "Moi?" He said with the perfect amount of feigned innocence. By then I was howling, tears streaming down my face in relief.  
  
"You jerk," I swore at him. Just then, Kitty and Peter walked in. I knew they didn't know what to make of the two of us, uncontrollably laughing in the kitchen. From the looks they gave us, they probably thought we were crazy. Oh well. It was the best laugh I'd had in a long time. And I felt much better, knowing that I was on good terms with at least one of the X-Men.  
  
* * * * *  
  
At 10:55 I realized I was lost in the mansion. I thought I'd gone the right way towards the Professor's office, but somehow I'd gotten turned around. I didn't even know if I were on the right floor.and now that I think about it.the correct wing.  
  
I hated being late - even if I were dreading this particular engagement.I still had five minutes. _Okay._ _I can figure this out._ _All I have to do is scan the mansion and get myself turned around the right way._ I began to push my powers out, 'seeing' various other rooms.the X-Men going about their daily activities. I'd have to search room by room, and since the place was huge, that might take up all my buffer time. I had only a couple seconds to myself before an alien thought interrupted the process.  
  
[Follow me, I will show you the way to my office], Professor Xavier's voice came clearly into my mind.  
  
"Okay," I said aloud and mentally. I was only a little surprised.telepathic communication wasn't entirely new to me.I just wasn't used to his voice in my head. Then I realized that the Professor had probably heard what I was just thinking and instead focused on his telepathic instructions.  
  
I arrived to his office in short order, having been on the wrong floor. "Thanks," I said to him, before sliding into the chair in front of his desk. Ororo was also there, sitting quietly and serenely next to me.  
  
Professor Xavier barely touched on the pleasantries and then cut right to business. "Ororo and I have had a chance to study the tape from your Danger Room session earlier this morning." I nodded, the breakfast debate still looming on my mind. "We would like to review this with you and discuss opportunities where we can work with you to increase your performance."  
  
"Okay." The Professor picked up a strange looking remote and pointed it at what looked like a computer monitor on his desk. It had been turned so that all three of us could look at the screen. Instead of a computer monitor, it appeared to be some sort of fancy TV/VCR combo that now showed me standing in the corner of the Danger Room as I had this morning. I watched myself wave, but my eyes were more drawn to the horrible gold-and- black spandex I had been forced to wear. _It's even uglier than I thought._  
  
"First, I will give you a brief appraisal of your performance," Professor Xavier said matter-of-factly. "You were successful, given that you were able to exit the Danger Room. Given your abilities, I had estimated that you would have required less time to complete this sequence. Along the same lines, I had believed that you would have had less difficulty surmounting the challenges set before you. Ororo kindly reminded me that you have rarely actively utilized your abilities for quite some time, and are perhaps - in the common vernacular - a 'bit rusty'. I believe that with proper guidance and regular training sessions, you could greatly improve the manner in which you employ your powers." While he spoke, the monitor displayed my encounter with the jet engine. Professor Xavier paused the tape.  
  
"I certainly feel it would be best to help you refine your level of control and discipline. Your power is quite remarkable in its versatility and depth. We must certainly determine your upper limits and then develop non-lethal methods by which you can dissuade foes."  
  
I almost snorted at the last. There's at least one 'foe' I knew of who deserved to feel the full brunt of my power. "Okay," was all I said.  
  
Professor Xavier proposed a series of objectives for me to achieve in the future: Creating a personal bodyshield that would protect me from physical attacks; developing the ability to handle multiple attacks and counters concurrently; working on my airborne agility; bio- molecular/nuclear transfiguration - whatever that meant; developing the ability to scan and use my active powers simultaneously - this was an ability he especially wanted to focus on. Most importantly, he emphasized the ability to be able to think clearly in a 'crisis' situation. He hastened to add that, "Perfect practice makes perfect. You would do well to employ your abilities on a day-to-day basis, even during normal household activities. This would increase your comfort level with respect to your powers."  
  
"I counsel you to use your powers during your daily regime, inside the mansion and without - of course, within limitation. Please, use your own best judgment. Nevertheless, utilizing your powers to complete ordinary jobs will heighten your control, and allow them to serve you as easily as any normal reflex action."  
  
I nodded slowly in understanding.  
  
"Now - to cite the specific references of your first Danger Room sequence - let's review this video. The initial portion of this sequence was designed with the dual purpose of gauging your ability to think under duress and also help determine the parameters involving your airborne abilities - maximum velocity, maneuverability, etc." Here he clicked a button, which created a small chart in the corner. "This chart depicts the force created by the engine. Effectively it is pulling you in one direction - and your powers push you away from it."  
  
"A wind tunnel, sort of." I piped in.  
  
"Precisely. Now, on this chart, you can see the drag you overcame before incapacitating the equipment."  
  
I frowned as the number steadily increased to a peak on the small chart. "That can't be right."  
  
Professor shook his head once to dispel my arguments. "Merely because you find it difficult to believe, does not make it so. Had you continued to hold your position, I imagine that you could even exceed this velocity. Two hundred miles per hour will be your benchmark. We will determine what level you can achieve above this standard in your next session."  
  
Next session, I thought mutely. What have I gotten myself into, I wondered for the umpteenth time. I glanced from Professor Xavier to Ororo - who smiled supportively - then turned back to the screen.  
  
Professor Xavier made that chart go away with another button click, at the same time making a short ruler appear in the bottom right-hand corner. Instead of numbers, though, this ruler had two-letter abbreviations spaced evenly throughout. As the video played, the ruler began to look more like the read-out from an EKG; it showed different peaks and spikes at various levels - rising and falling with no discernible pattern.  
  
"These markings are telemetry readings," he indicated the ruler in the corner, "they depict the various wavelengths of radiation along the electromagnetic spectrum." He pushed another button on his high-tech remote. "This is a typical spectrum," he said indicating a second ruler, which appeared above the first; it showed a large peak over the area denoted by 'VL'. "You could think of this as a baseline," he explained. I leaned in closer, concentrating.  
  
"All right."  
  
"Now, keeping this in mind, notice the changes on the initial read- out." He indicated the first ruler, where spikes were appearing and disappearing irregularly. Comparing the two, I could see that the first was vastly different from the second - which didn't change at all.  
  
"Okay." Then. "What's causing that?"  
  
"You are. Notice how the peaks and valleys fluctuate as you actively use your powers. The radiation field surrounding you alters when you use your mutant abilities." My body shield visibly grew and thickened as I fought through the various hazards of the Danger Room. Xavier tapped a third button creating a small window in the upper right-hand corner of the screen. Words scrolled in and out of sight like a teleprompter. "This window indicates your emotional status during the activity that is displayed on the screen."  
  
"Okay - so, here's me," I said pointing to myself. "And these blue- white colors around me and extending from me are my powers." Professor Xavier nodded. "And this is the baseline scale for."  
  
"Electromagnetic radiation," Ororo supplied.  
  
"I see. And then this is my power on a sort of electromagnetic scale. And here is what I was feeling at the time I was using my powers." It was a lot to try and digest. Unfortunately it was just the beginning. "Does that cover the gist of it?" The older man nodded.  
  
Professor Xavier then sped up the tape to the part where I was caught in the crossfire of two lasers. "Please observe closely," he advised. On the video, I stood, unmoved and unharmed by the amplified light.  
  
"You felt no adverse effect from these two beams?" Ororo indicated the lasers.  
  
"None at all," I replied. "It actually felt good."  
  
"I registered that here," Professor Xavier said, tapped the portion of the computer screen that held the 'teleprompter of emotions'. He paused the screen. "You absorbed the energy?" It was more a statement than a question.  
  
"I guess. It didn't burn me. I wasn't hurt, or anything. I can't really be sure. It's not like people point lasers at me on a daily basis," I said, with only a medium amount of sarcasm.  
  
"Then, I would hypothesize that you most likely absorbed the power," he indicated the spheres. "There was a slight energy drain from the power systems related to that particular Danger Room system."  
  
"So you're saying I was feeding on the lasers?"  
  
He gave me a small smile. "I don't know if 'feeding' is the most appropriate term, but the analogy will suffice for now."  
  
"Well - where does the power go?" Being a chemical engineer I was sensitive to matters of mass and energy balances. _You can neither create nor destroy either one._ That was just a fundamental law - Introductory Engineering 101.  
  
"A small portion is re-distributed to the visual portion of the spectrum which we register as this display of color - your standard energy signature."  
  
"And the rest of the energy.?" I said.  
  
"Probably held in reserve until it is required," he explained. "You are constantly pulling various forms of energy from the electromagnetic spectrum in your immediate environment. It is most likely a completely unconscious use of your ability, since I believe this is a phenomenon you were not aware of previously."  
  
"Nope," I said eyeing the screen. "Had no idea." It was amazing to think that this was going on sight-unseen. You could never tell that I was doing all that just by looking at me - it had required Xavier's special equipment to determine this particular aspect of my mutant nature.  
  
"Here - when you encountered the flamethrowers," Xavier plowed on. "You are also immune to flame?"  
  
"No," I said. "I just don't get burned if I concentrate. I mean - fire can't touch me through my heat shield," I tried to explain.  
  
He paused for a moment in thought. "That would be logical. The heat produced by a normal chemical fire is less than that created by radiation." He began revving the video to the next scenario. "This is also interesting," the Professor said. "In your final conflict with the automaton, you began to wield extraordinary levels of energy." I watched the bottom ruler register large spikes in all areas of the electromagnetic scale. The peaks grew high, then stopped; the Professor had paused the tape. "Notice the area around your hands, and eyes. And how the thickness of your body-field has increased markedly?" I nodded. "This would be better with the color-coded display." The Professor said more to himself than either Ororo or me. He studied the controller for a moment then tapped a few buttons. Soon the overall picture had faded to a dull black- and-white contrast. The ruler, however, now displayed each section in colors. GR was magenta, XR was orange, UV was gold, VL was dull gray, IR was green, MR was cobalt, and RW was deep purple.  
  
It was like he had inverted the color - the Danger Room, and everything in it - were mostly drab shades of gray. Conversely, my powers and I had changed dramatically. I - my body - now looked completely black - like a being made of pure darkness. My powers, in contrast, were vivid prismatic hues; the area around my hands and eyes as well as the stream of energy pouring from my body was a mixture of all the colors. Bands of energy continued to saturate my 'dark' form. They were tinged with the same ambient energy forms that made up the color scheme of the Danger Room. These were also the same colors present in the baseline scale for EM radiation. _Irregardless of what the Professor said, it did in fact look like I was 'feeding' off energy in the room._  
  
"Now based on this display, I theorize that your body has become a conduit for metabolizing and manipulating massive quantities of EM radiation."  
  
"That would explain the black color," I said.  
  
"Exactly. Now note the similarity in colors between 1) the colored energy bands from which you are drawing power and 2) the baseline electromagnetic spectrum ruler, here, Mr. Darkmoon. Now notice the change in the array of colors in your power field. Each color represents a different energy form in the Electromagnetic spectrum. Gamma Rays are red, X-Rays are orange, Ultraviolet is yellow, light in the Visual range is gray, Infared is green, Microwaves are blue, and Radiowaves are violet."  
  
"Okay.and?" Then I paused. The colors in the baseline - the energy forms, I corrected myself -were in the visual range, also consisting of small amounts of some other types. But the energy pouring out of my hands and around the edges of my eyes was tinged with gamma radiation, x-rays, and microwaves. _Where's it all coming from?_ I don't know if I spoke out loud or just projected the thought. Nevertheless, Professor Xavier answered.  
  
"The simplest explanation we can put forth is that you are unconsciously converting one form of electromagnetic radiation to another as you need it. In this particular setting, the need for sufficient power to overcome your adversary manifested itself in the higher energy forms, gamma rays, and X-Rays being the higher energy forms of radiation."  
  
"All right. So what you're saying is - is that I can draw on different wavelengths of light from my environment and convert it to whatever form of EM radiation I need. Without thinking about it. And that I can store this energy away, somewhere, until it's needed."  
  
"It would appear so. Yes," he said.  
  
"I needed more power, so I drew upon the light around me to give me enough to beat up the robot. I know I've never done that before."  
  
"Perhaps not with a conscious will.but you have done it nonetheless. You did it all throughout your Danger Room session today. I believe you also employed your powers in this manner during the confrontation in Pittsburgh."  
  
_Hmmmmmm._ "Some of those forms of radiation are dangerous," I said after a moment.  
  
"Yes, they are. But only if allowed to run unchecked; you have demonstrated the capability of gowerning your powers in both controlled and uncontrolled environments. It will require more time on my part to study stellar phenomenon and physics, to gain a further understanding as to how your powers operate. But I believe this initial assessment will suffice?"  
  
"Yes," I agreed, quickly. I was definitely not in the mood for a lesson from the mutant Mr. Science-and-Technology.  
  
"Good. Now, let's analyze these particular instances," he said, reversing the tape to show me various times when I had dodged or been hit by a physical object. He switched the color-coded display back now that he'd given me the introductory speech about the physics of my mutant powers. "With your abilities, you should have easily avoided physical contact," he stated. "Your ability allows you to view physical objects in large context, does it not?"  
  
I nodded.  
  
"Then you should be able to counter or dodge without having to physically turn to face an attack."  
  
"Yeah." He said nothing, which meant - to me - that I'd have to work harder at using scanning sense. Prove to him that I could do better with my power. *Sigh*  
  
He let the tape play forward to the climatic ending. I watched the outsider's perspective on my freak-out with a clenched jaw. I couldn't peel my eyes away from the scene. There I was - punching, kicking, fighting and then - I stopped as if resigned to my fate. A second later, a strange transformation took place.  
  
There was a flash of light from the monitor that made Ororo and the Professor squint slightly, but it was gone quickly. "What the . . ." I murmured. The robot, which had previously lifted me in its grasp, now seemed to be holding a man-shaped light-blob. It looked like one of those energy-creatures from the movie 'Cocoon' - except it was composed of blue- white light, and there was nothing soothing or benevolent about this being. _About me_, I corrected myself.  
  
"Can you replay that?" I asked suddenly, leaning in closer.  
  
"Of course," Professor Xavier replied, re-winding the tape. I watched the metamorphosis once more, this time my eyes glued to the electromagnetic scale in the bottom corner. At the precise moment of my - change - the energy spiked off the scale in every category. I let a low breath escape.  
  
The tape continued to play.  
  
_This was when I sort of . . . detached myself_, I recalled. I watched - now getting a play-by-play view of what I'd actually done. And, since I couldn't remember clearly what happened, this tape filled in the foggy details. Whether or not this was a good thing, I still wonder about to this day.  
  
I lifted into the air. Since the robot was still holding on to me, it got pulled up, too. Professor Xavier explained that the robot had a system of specialized magnets in its feet that had been designed to prevent such an action. Airborne, I somehow managed to force the arms of the robot off me - it happened so fast I couldn't even tell; though, I was too entranced to ask for the tape to be rewound again. It dropped the few feet back to the metal floor, only slightly staggered by the fall. I flew at it then, wrapping my hands around the head, shoving it bodily back into the wall behind us. The robot countered my attack by backhanding me away. The blow stopped me for only a second.  
  
I - the 'me' on the screen - charged forward again, dipping my shoulder at the last second, tackling the robot like a linebacker. We slammed into a wall and I began to pummel it with my fists. At least my form wasn't too bad, I thought bemusedly. _My kickboxing trainer would've been pleased._ But then the robot pushed me off it once more, this time starting to look a little worse for wear; it had strange mercurial depressions in its torso and one big one on the side of its face. The mechanical equivalent of bruised and bloody?  
  
Shaking my head to dispel the errant thought, I watched my energy-signature swirl even more brightly as the oversized Go-Bot came around to face me again. I barreled into it once more, both of us careening forward. At this point, we flew out of the bottom of the screen. That must have been when I crashed through the Danger Room door into the anteroom. I'm no football player; at 6'1" and 175 pounds, the robot must have outweighed me many times over. Physics would probably say that I should have bounced right off that thing. _How had I managed to even make it stumble?_ The Professor stopped the tape then.  
  
He leveled a frank stare at me. I began to pick at the nails on my left hand, trying hard not to look at him. "I registered your emotional state as panicked," he said evenly. _I bet you did, you._ "I had no idea that the pre-determined sequence would have such a deleterious effect on your emotional well-being. Had I known, I would have terminated it sooner. As it were, we concluded it as quickly as possible."  
  
_He had the power to stop it and he let it play out anyway?_ My head snapped up. "Why didn't you stop it sooner?" My eyes narrowed suspiciously.  
  
"We reacted swiftly - as fast as was humanly possible," Xavier admitted. "You may not be effected by light, but the rest of us are." I could feel my temper soaring higher. Professor Xavier's brow suddenly furrowed in consternation. "Please contain yourself, Mr. Darkmoon," he advised me.  
  
I studied him curiously. "What?"  
  
"You are glowing," Ororo said by way of explanation. I looked down at my hands and saw the soft blue-white light flickering around my fingertips. There was an uncomfortable moment of silence while I struggled to suppress my powers. I took a long calming breath. The light around my hands flickered and went out.  
  
"As to what I was saying earlier." Professor Xavier began.  
  
"We were momentarily blinded after you transformed," Ororo said. The Professor nodded.  
  
"When our vision cleared, we saw you pushing the robot ahead of you out of the Danger Room. I terminated the exercise then. Storm went first to intercept you," he said. _In case I had really gotten out of hand?_  
  
I slouched back in my chair. "I see."  
  
"From a purely practical standpoint, we need to examine this portion of the tape with you in detail," Professor Xavier said. He rewound the video, freezing it at the instant right before I had gone nuclear - literally. "It is of paramount importance for you to understand what happened - if you are to ever have true control over your power. And if we are to assist in your training, then we need to understand it as well."  
  
"I have control," I said snippily.  
  
The Professor arched an eyebrow at me, but didn't refute the statement.  
  
I took another deep breath and released it slowly, trying not to let the frustration and anger show. At least not much more. In a much more steady voice, I said, "Why?"  
  
"What you lack is practical use of your abilities in combat," Professor Xavier stated. "That is something that you could learn however, should you remain here at the school to further your training in your powers. As to the 'why'? I would think that it would be obvious. If you were to find yourself in a similar situation as last Friday, or even today, what will you do? How many innocent people will suffer because you overreact? How much havoc will you wreak? Does that help you understand why it is so important for us to understand your actions during intense situations like these?"  
  
I opened my mouth - then slammed it shut. _Yes - it made sense._ But that didn't make it any easier to agree with him.  
  
"Would you care to explain your response in this particular instance?" he asked bluntly.  
  
"No." I said sharply. He didn't need any more information than he'd already gleaned from my stray surface thoughts. And I wasn't ready to divulge any secrets to the guy. Not after this morning's session. And breakfast. And the last fifteen minutes.  
  
He leveled his gaze at me. Once again I felt his will like a palpable force. I don't think he was actually doing anything more than looking hard at me, but it still felt that way. The guy's a telepath; I know what it feels like when someone's going through your mind. Even if it's a friend. Which he wasn't. My fingers curled into tight angry fists. I think we would have stared at each other indefinitely, had not Ororo stepped in.  
  
"Tres - even without knowing the precise details of your previous experience, we can understand that there.That you have suffered a very traumatic ordeal. When you are ready to share particulars of those events, if ever, we offer to listen," she said softly. I had a strong urge to resist her gentle words and imploring tone. This vied with the desire to talk to someone who would understand; to tell anyone something. Then I caught Professor Xavier's stern gaze out of the corner my eye. That squashed any feelings of goodwill I'd had in a heartbeat.  
  
"I'll think it over," was all I said. "Thanks," I murmured looking away from both of them to study an interesting corner of the office. There was a moment of silence, disrupted only by the crackle of the flames from the fireplace.  
  
Finally, Professor Xavier spoke in an even, clipped tone. Whatever warmth he'd had before had diminished. All this talk of working with my powers made me uneasy. He was never going to let me leave, I thought dejectedly. _I'm trapped!_ I felt a familiar surge of fear, but tried to push it aside. I nodded and half-heartedly agreed that all the things he'd suggested were good ideas. _At least, he could help me improve my powers._ _Maybe I'd get better at using them or at least stronger._  
  
There was a pause, which I thought signaled the end of the debriefing. It was, however, the Professor gathering his thoughts. "This concludes our discussion of your Danger Room performance. However, this does bring us to the heart of a matter I think of utmost importance, Mr. Darkmoon." I felt another oppressive weight settling upon me. _What now?_ _Would the inquisition never end?_  
  
"I understand you have finals this week,". The Professor cleared his throat. "I will not stand in the way of your education and more importantly your right to live your life the way you choose. You are, as such, free to leave the mansion at any time. However, if you like, you are welcome to continue to stay in my home."  
  
Oh. "I.Thank you for your offer," I managed to get out of a throat that had suddenly gone dry. The last thing I'd expected was an invitation to come back.  
  
"What I am proposing - asking - is that you return to West Chester in five days time. This is assuming you would not require more rest from your academic trials. We could commence further testing of your powers, then."  
  
_Ah ha!_ _There's a catch!_  
  
"Of course, you would have whatever time you'd feel was necessary to come to a decision," Xavier added, as almost an afterthought. "But if you were to return, I would recommend several additional training sessions. If you would be amenable to that?"  
  
_Is he challenging me?_ I lifted my chin a little higher in defiance. _I'm not gonna let you find any weakness in me, damnit!_ I started to reply, but Ororo spoke first.  
  
"We still feel it is very important to discern the nature of your assailants," Ororo spoke now, interposing herself, and a convenient subject change, between the two of us. "As that information has not been forthcoming, yet, we recommend that you proceed cautiously. With the identity of your attackers still a mystery, another assault could come at any time." Ororo sounded completely sincere; I couldn't sense anything from her other than concern for my well-being. "Of course, should you choose to accept our offer and return, the facilities of the mansion would be at your disposal. The library, the computers, and the Danger Room to be specific," Ororo added. "As well as the seclusion of the grounds of the estate. This would allow you time to exercise your powers in an arena that is well-suited to such activities." I nodded too off-balance to process any of it for a moment.  
  
I said a silent prayer - to any God, Goddess, or Spirit that would hear me - profusely thankful that Ororo was here. Xavier's will, whether he meant it to be or not, was almost a tangible thing; I could feel it pressing on me and that made me only want to resist - do the opposite of what he suggested. If I didn't know better, I would've sworn the man was a TK and not a TP. But Ororo's presence provided a buffer - of sorts. At least she gave me a handy escape route. "Thanks," I mumbled.  
  
"It is my understanding that your first examination is tomorrow. I would, of course, like to extend another offer to transport you back to Pittsburgh. We can make arrangements for you to return to West Chester and communicate them to you later on in the week. If you choose to come back that is," Professor Xavier threw this part in at the end.  
  
"I . . ." You'd think I'd be done stumbling over my own words by now. I didn't know what to say. And the debate must have been plain on my face. Xavier's blue eyes stared searchingly at me. I clamped down on my current train of thought. "I - I can't think about that now. I really need to study. After the exam tomorrow, can I tell you what I think then?"  
  
Xavier sat back a little in his chair - I hadn't realized he'd been bending forward - but his expression was unreadable; I couldn't tell if he were frustrated or disappointed by my obvious delay tactic. "Of course, Tres," Ororo said, placing a hand gently on my forearm. "You need time to consider your options. We would not expect you to come to such a decision so rapidly."  
  
"But, please let us know when you'd like to return to Pittsburgh," Professor Xavier said.  
  
I'd already made up my mind. "Actually - I was wondering if I could go back in the morning. My final's not until 1. If I get back around 8, then I'd have time to get re-adjusted, get in more study time, etc." I looked first at Xavier, then at Ororo. "If that wouldn't be too much trouble."  
  
"I will see to the necessary accommodations; it will not be a problem at all," Ororo assured me.  
  
"Thank you for your time, Mr. Darkmoon." His tone was cordial, but lacked affection. There was no denying when Xavier had dismissed you.  
  
I nodded, not quite sure what to say, and stood. Ororo also rose, but Professor Xavier made a gesture that I only caught out of the corner of my eye, as I turned towards the door.  
  
"We will rejoin you at lunch," Ororo said, returning to her seat.  
  
"Until then." I said, trying to smile. But the knot of anxiety in my stomach that had been there since the start of the interview began to grow. And it wasn't pre-test jitters.  
  
* * * * *  
-End Part 2-  
  
This story © 2003 Sherman Taylor  
Clayton "Tres" Darkmoon © 2002 Sherman Taylor  
The X-Men, Professor Charles Xavier, and all constituent  
characters © 2003 Marvel Comics Group.  
This story is not for sale and is not to be distributed without  
permission of the author.  
  
Please electronically mail comments to CommanderInChf@aol.com.  
All constructive criticism is appreciated. 


	12. Chapter 7part 3: Microscope

Chapter 7  
  
Microscope  
  
"People want the illusion of choice without having to make a decision at  
all."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Grub's gettin' low," Wolverine grumbled from the refrigerator. I frowned slightly - firstly because I was hungry, and secondly because I didn't want to deal with a ravenous Wolverine. The sated one was already.interesting enough. "Thought you and 'Ro went to Salem Center yesterday." This last was directed at Warren, accompanied by a reproving stare.  
  
Angel shrugged under that baleful look and shuffled his wings slightly. "We did - but not to food shop."  
  
"Perhaps this afternoon, then" suggested Peter, lounging against the counter, also watching the two X-Men.  
  
Wolverine grumbled something about making do, and resigned to another part of the kitchen where he had been making up several sandwiches. A chime from the microwave announced the completion of the rest of his meal - a couple of slices of pizza with the works. Arms loaded with goodies, Wolverine departed the kitchen, without a second glance.  
  
Warren took up Wolverine's place at the refrigerator door, hunting around for something.  
  
"Anything I can get for you Peter? Tres?" Warren asked politely.  
  
"Is there any turkey left?" I volunteered.  
  
"Yep. Ham and roast beef, too. We're out of bacon though - and the cheddar's seen better days," Warren said. He straightened bringing with him the selected meats. I stepped in to help, pulling what remained of several loaves of bread from a cupboard, while Peter took his turn rummaging through the refrigerator.  
  
We worked in silence for a few minutes, save for the sound of sandwich making and Peter pulling things out of the refrigerator, shaking his head and putting something back only to start the whole process over. He finally decided on the cold leftovers of a pizza and some pot roast, a bowl of tortilla chips and extra hot salsa, with a diet cola to wash it all down. Gathering everything in his hands, he followed Warren and I out into the dining room, where Wolverine, Kitty and Kurt were sitting near the head of the table. After the breakfast fiasco, I took a seat away from where Professor Xavier usually sat. The three of us plunked ourselves down and began to dig in.  
  
It was just after noon, and I think I was all out of conversation for the day. I was actually looking forward to going back to my semi-private alcove in the library where I could study in peace. I snorted softly - _my alcove_.  
  
_Would it be so bad staying here?_ I looked around at the spacious dining room then thought about the rest of the mansion's resources. _I'd get to work with my powers - and be around other mutants, right?_ _I wouldn't have to hide my peculiarities - at least not while I'm here._ I guess if you have to keep a secret for nearly four years, even hanging out with outlaws starts to sound pretty good.  
  
Chewing thoughtfully, I watched the others laughing and talking. Peter was trying to entice Kitty with some of his nachos. Kurt looked on bemusedly, his bright yellow eyes sparkling with mirth. Warren was quiet, seemingly enjoying a few moments of relaxation, but I could tell his mind was working - at what I did not know. Wolverine was seated near the head of the table, tearing through his food with enthusiasm - even though he'd been complaining about the lack of variety only a moment before. _These were the dreaded X-Men._ _If the world only knew._  
  
Just then, Ororo and Professor Xavier came in, taking up their customary places at one end of the table. I chose that moment to look the other way, forcing myself to think about schoolwork and problem sets instead of the difficult choice I'd have to make regarding the school. The familiar knot of anxiety began to fill my stomach and I looked numbly at the half-eaten turkey sandwich in my hands. My appetite gone, I forced myself to eat the rest, not tasting a single bite. I realized then, how utterly exhausted I was from everything that had happened this morning. _Hell - in the last few days._ What I really wanted was some coffee.  
  
I excused myself quickly from the table with a half-mumbled excuse and went off to make a pot of coffee, ignoring several pairs of eyes following me. In the relative safety and privacy of the kitchen, I felt some of the tension melting away; at least I could get away from Xavier for a few moments to think without wondering if he were eavesdropping. Then I realized how stupid and naïve that was; like a few feet were going to stop him from hearing my thoughts. I puttered around the kitchen searching for the coffee I knew Warren had this morning.  
  
I'd been raised strictly around Folger's, but Warren had introduced me to a tastier blend brought in from somewhere exotic. I don't suppose Warren would mind, I thought, pulling the grounds from the freezer where they were stored.Soon the coffee was perking away, the unfamiliar and pungent smell filling the large room. I breathed deeply, closing my eyes to enjoy the aroma. I leaned back against the counter, waiting patiently for the caffeinated brew to finish.  
  
"I thought I smelled." My eyes snapped open. Warren sniffed the air appreciatively, padding into the kitchen. "Worn out, Tres?" Dressed in a pair of well-worn jeans, white socks, and an old gray sweatshirt that said 'Xavier's', Warren hardly looked the part of an international superhero.  
  
"Only a little. You don't mind, do you?" I asked, feeling a minor pang of guilt over the borrowed coffee.  
  
"Not at all." He carried his dishes to the sink. "I wasn't that hungry after all, and I've got some paper work to look over," he explained. "Better to grab a quick bite and get some work done early."  
  
"Okay." I sort of half-shrugged. "Me too."  
  
"Well I'm not trading with you - so don't even think about asking," he said.  
  
Which was just what I was thinking. "Damn! There goes Plan A! Oh well." Warren grinned while packing his lunch dishes into the dishwasher. I sighed. "Guess I better get back to the library. I can't waste the whole day."  
  
"That's a good idea," he said as if considering. "I usually do my work in one of the studies. Sometimes I use the library. In fact, I may need to get some of my files out of the there. And use one of the computers. I'll be in there later on - just let me know if I'm bothering you."  
  
I blinked in surprise. "Uh.It's not my library. I haven't laid any claim to it."  
  
"What? You haven't? Didn't you read the fine print of the X-Men contract? You have to mark your territory early on, before all the good spots are taken!"  
  
I made a little face while pouring myself a cup of coffee. "I shredded that particular contract. Didn't like the terms."  
  
Warren turned a little more serious. "Hmmm, well there's always the opportunity to renegotiate terms," he said. "If you need legal counsel, I could recommend a few lawyers I keep on retainer."  
  
I smiled to myself before taking a sip. Strong. "I'll keep that in mind," I replied, not sure if Warren were joking or not.  
  
_Paper work, lawyers.He's gotta be kidding._ But then I didn't really know what Warren did outside the X-Men. I mean what was it that they did between being chased by torch-wielding mobs and blowing things up. _Was it just like today, maybe?_ _Or did they have jobs?_ It suddenly occurred to me how little I really knew about the people I was hanging around. Before I wouldn't have cared, but now was different. _I might be spending more time with them._  
  
I followed Warren out of the kitchen, lost in thought while he prattled on. He'd settled back into lecture mode, so it was easy to keep him going with a few strategically placed "Uh-huh's" and "I don't know what that means". He led us through the dining room into the foyer, with me only half- listening. At least I'd have a week at the school to sort things out. Professor Xavier had made the offer and I'd agreed to return, but maybe I didn't want to come back. At least the next five days gave me the time to weigh all my options and get through finals. Mutant or not - I still had to obey the laws of supply and demand of the job market - which was currently requiring a high grade point average for providing an interview.  
  
Back to the books, I thought.  
  
* * * * *  
  
I decided to take an after-dinner break. Get some fresh air. The Professor had told me to get more accustomed to using my powers - and there was no time like the present. Plus I was getting tired of staring at a computer screen and the same old textbooks. _Maybe I could explore the grounds a little_.I smiled to myself, glad to be doing something other than lessons for a few minutes.  
  
I hadn't dressed warmly - sweats and a light long-sleeved shirt; I'd rely on my powers to keep me warm. I simply wandered down from my room and out the front door. No one was about, and I didn't think I needed to tell anyone I was going out. _Did I?_ I shrugged, standing on the front steps looking out over the grounds.  
  
Virgin white snow covered the estate, and the air was clean and crisp. The sun had set already - we were nearing the Winter Solstice - but it wasn't absolutely dark. It was eerily silent. A wan, tired moon resided over my nocturnal activities; it was my only companion. I lifted off the ground, hovering slightly, then rocketing skyward.  
  
I was free and alone - breathing the cold night air, flying fast and hard. It was such a relief to be away from the books and school and everything that was my old life. Everything that meant hiding and lying and holding back.  
  
I twisted and spiraled, flipping over on my back, then righted myself. I felt the wind around the edges of my body-field, but not the cold. Before I knew it, I was quite high up, nearly above the cloud cover. I paused for a moment, studying the whole of the Xavier lands sprawled beneath me. Then I leveled off, zipping towards one end of the enclosed land.  
  
Xavier had a nice place. It was even more impressive from the outside. Like Warren said, there really was a huge lake out back - with a boathouse and everything. I stopped over the center of it, then let myself down gently on the dock. The pond looked frozen, but I imagined that there were only a few inches of ice. I'd probably fall through if I walked out onto it. I had no desire to be cold and wet, but gazed solemnly at the water for a moment longer before flying off.  
  
There were a lot of trees on the grounds, leafless, with some of the higher branches twinkling with snow in the moonlight. I drifted low, and began to zoom around the tree trunks, then over and under the low-hanging limbs. _And Xavier said I needed to work on my airborne agility._ I'm pretty nimble, I thought defensively. _If he could see me now._  
  
Unfortunately, that particular train of thought was ultimately hitched to this afternoon's briefing. _Now what else did he say?_ That I should also work on my ability to generate light. And simultaneous 'scanning' and countering with my power. Bio-molecular-nuclear transfiguration. I considered that last one._Does that mean he wants me to become that - that creature again?_ I blanched slightly, thinking about my previous escapade. _Maybe he wants to see if I could make the change consciously._ _If I could will it so.Who knows?_ _Maybe I could._  
  
Holding myself aloft I spread my fingers in front of my face. All right, I thought.Change! _Do something_ I ordered myself, looking for the slightest shift in color or appearance. Nothing happened. I looked at both sides of my hand, and continued to think of ways to get myself to transform. After five minutes of futile attempts, I was ready to call it quits and settle back for a few minutes of leisurely flying.  
  
"I trust I am not interrupting?"  
  
I whirled around. "Uh - hello Ororo. No - not at all," I smiled. "Just taking a break from my studies." She hovered close, the winds sustaining her flight ruffling her hair slightly. She was wearing a shortcropped sleeveless top and a pair of loose-fitting black pants. _I guess she opted to rely on powers for heat, too._ She was barefoot, and her outfit exposed the barest expanse of a firm, well-toned midriff.  
  
"You fly well," she said after a moment.  
  
"Thank you, Ororo." Another silence while I searched for something to say. "I like flying at night. Complete solitude. Just you and the stars and the moon." Suddenly nostalgic, the last of my words trailed off to barely a whisper.  
  
She nodded. "I, too, sometimes seek refuge in the heavens. In solitude, there can be solace."  
  
_Solace?_ I gave her a curious look, but opted not to take the bait. "When I first got my powers, I used to sneak out at night and fly around. I always had to be careful. I always worried someone would see me. It's kinda hard to be discrete if you're glowing. Luckily, I never got caught. Or lost."  
  
"We are all, at times, thankful for the small favors bestowed upon us when fortune smiles," Ororo agreed.  
  
"I always knew I was different," I said distantly. "I used to keep my head shaved, so people wouldn't see my hair, but there was nothing my parents could do to hide my eyes. Although green isn't nearly so strange, I suppose. When I became a mutant -." What a lame way to put that, I thought. "- I just figured that was just one more difference I had."  
  
"A lonely time," Ororo suggested. "You must have felt isolated. And perhaps, special?"  
  
I nodded. "There were only two other black kids in my grade when I graduated high school. And on top of that I was a mutant. I did feel special," I admitted. "Look at the things I could do. No one else around me could do what I did. Everyone else just had to read about the Avengers and the Fantastic Four. I could actually go out and do something like that." A small smile of remembrance flitted across my face to be echoed in Ororo's regal features.  
  
"After a few months of hiding it, hiding everything, trying to play at being normal - like everyone else," I corrected myself, "- I didn't feel so special. More like it was a burden. I had to be so careful around everyone. It was hard.keeping things a secret. Not letting little things slip - like seeing in the dark, or knowing who was coming into a room before they walked in." I couldn't believe how much I was babbling; I must've sounded incoherent. It was like once I got started, I couldn't stop.  
  
"Of course, when I couldn't fly around - like during the day - I tried other things with my powers at home. Like making small lights, working on heating. Imagine trying to explain how things randomly caught fire," I said with a laugh. "It didn't happen often - just a few times in the beginning. I was really careful after that. But then all that changed." My smile deepened to a hard frown. I looked away from Ororo to study the cloudcover. "Then you find out you aren't so alone."  
  
Ororo dipped her head in understanding. "The struggle for control and understanding is difficult, especially with no one there to guide or teach you. That is one advantage to being around your compeers."  
  
"True. But sometimes seclusion is better.Better for everyone."  
  
"Perhaps. But I feel the benefits far outweigh the disadvantages," Ororo countered. "Was it so bad to be around other mutants?"  
  
"It was." I sighed wearily.  
  
"I do not know what has happened to you in the past," Ororo began. I quickly cut her off.  
  
"But it is in the past, Ororo. Where it needs to stay." I shrugged. "'Time heals all wounds'. 'You live, you learn', and all that other clichéd nonsense. You get over the bad stuff in life."  
  
Ororo paused momentarily. "Only if you adequately deal with each situation. Work through the hurt, the loss, and all of the difficulties," she said. "No one has inquired.but did you know that young man who.?"  
  
"I didn't know him," I said, looking down at the ground.forty feet below us. "It doesn't matter, though does it? He was - allegedly - a mutant. And that gang or whatever that got him and beat him to death...That could have been anyone of us."  
  
"It was tragic," Ororo said.  
  
"Yes," I agreed. What more was there to say? Anti-mutant feelings had boiled over in area not too far from school and resulted in a violent death. That had been about a week before I'd met the X-Men. "It was sad and unfortunate and it shouldn't have happened." _It certainly wouldn't have happened to me._  
  
"It must have been unsettling for you. A brutal and vicious hate crime so close to where you live," she said. I could feel her eyes on me, but continued to look anywhere but at her.  
  
I was zero-for-two today in the way of meaningful conversations. _No need to completely strike out, right?_ Plus I was in no mood for a heart- to-heart about how the death had affected me. "I should get back to studying Ororo. I have a final tomorrow."  
  
"Be sure to get sufficient rest," Ororo counseled. She gave no indication of being perturbed by the sudden end of our conversation.  
  
"Sleep is for the weak," I said with a smirk.  
  
"And for those that dream," Ororo replied cryptically.  
  
I gave her another questioning look. "Good night, Ororo."  
  
"Good night. I will see you in the morning." I nodded and began a rapid descent to the ground.  
  
* * * * *  
  
*BAMF!* My radar sense tracked Kurt at the same time I heard his signature teleportation sound. Still, I was pretty astonished to see him climbing the walls then tumbling effortlessly through the air. He landed on the floor to my right with a flourish. "Voila!" he said, giving a deep bow.  
  
It may have been almost midnight, and I was facing a helluva final tomorrow - but some things you just have to smile at. I turned away from the refrigerator and open cupboards to give him a round of applause. "Bravo! Bravo!"  
  
"Thank you. Thank you," he said. He indicated the open door. "You are searching for something?"  
  
"Uh - yeah. A little midnight snack," I explained. "Studying is tough work."  
  
"Ach, so." Kurt grinned. His expression was particularly comical when he did so. "Do you like Chinese?" I nodded. "Three of us ordered food for the movie we watched tonight," Kurt said. "Please - help yourself." I realized it was the first time we had really spoken to each other; I hadn't noticed Kurt's strong German accent before. Or the preternaturally sharp canine teeth that became more evident when he smiled.  
  
I paused digesting his words before responding. "Thanks."  
  
"Do you have much more material to study?" he asked, stepping closer to hand me some of the small white containers from the fridge.  
  
"Not too much longer." _Just forever_. "Maybe an hour. Then I'll get some shut-eye." I yawned loudly. I tried to subtly glance at him as I took the proffered foodstuffs. _He's not so strange looking_.  
  
Kurt smiled, adjusting his bathrobe. "Do not stay up too late," he advised.  
  
"Thanks. I'll try. But I can't make any promises," I said, pulling out a plate and silverware. "Are you hungry, too?"  
  
"Nein.No," he repeated in English. "I wanted some cocoa," he explained, reaching for the milk.  
  
"Why are you up so late, Kurt? Can't sleep?"  
  
He shook his head. "I promised Amanda I would call her at midnight." I gave him a quizzical look. "My girlfriend. She is a stewardess. She should have just gotten to her hotel and be settled by midnight our time," he told me.  
  
"Oh." _Kurt has a girlfriend?_ "How long have you been dating?" I asked, trying to keep my face neutral. I piled my plate with a mixture of every type of Chinese there was while Kurt began warming up the milk.  
  
Kurt leaned back, thinking, while I put my food in the microwave. "It is a long story," he said finally.  
  
"Those are the best kinds," I prompted him. "Maybe you can give me the highlights," I said.  
  
So Kurt did. He plunged into an account of how he was adopted by a Gypsy Witch Queen, who raised him alongside her two children. We ended up sitting down at the table in the kitchen, me eating and listening while Kurt briefed me on his love life and drinking his hot chocolate. The whole sorted tale ended with Amanda unmasked as Jimaine, his childhood friend.  
  
"Wow," I said between mouthfuls. "And you weren't mad, at all? About the deception, I mean."  
  
"Perhaps a little. More surprised than anything. And feeling very, very lucky," he said his eyes twinkling merrily. I chuckled.  
  
"Well I guess it's good to know that you can have a life outside of being an X-Man," I observed.  
  
Kurt stared at something over my shoulder and rose. I scanned the oven clock behind me - 'seeing' without turning around. "You can. Like most worthwhile things in life, it requires patience and diligence. Please excuse me, mein freund, but I must make a call."  
  
"Good night, Kurt," I said.  
  
"Good luck on your examinations." He waved goodbye before disappearing in a puff of smoke and sound. _Whew - what a stink_! I finished off my food, then washed my dishes and set them to dry. _Back to the library for another hour of study_.  
  
It wasn't until I was safely ensconced in the library that I realized I'd just spent twenty very pleasant minutes in conversation with Kurt. And I'd barely even thought about his appearance. Underneath his mutant exterior, he wasn't different at all. _He's just an ordinary guy_.  
  
* * * * *  
  
I met Ororo in the corridor outside of my room. It was quiet and well before 6 AM as we made our way downstairs. I was quite surprised by the presence of Warren, Kitty, and the Professor in the foyer. Well - as surprised as one can be if one can 'see' everything within a twenty-five- foot radius. _As long as I'm paying attention that is._  
  
"It would seem some of the X-Men wanted to see you off," Ororo explained as they formed a loose circle around me.  
  
_Wow._ I smiled, bleary-eyed from lack of sleep. "Thanks," I said, feeling warmed by their friendly gesture.  
  
"Good luck," Kitty said brightly. Her hand seemed so small in mine, but her grip was firm and sure. "We'll see you in a week."  
  
"Thanks, Kitty." I beamed. Then Warren stepped up.  
  
"I'll be ready when you get back with a whole new list of names to try out on you, for when you join the team," he quipped.  
  
"You better not," I said in mock warning. We shook hands and he clapped me lightly on the shoulder.  
  
"Well.," he said, eyes heavenward as if he were really contemplating my request. "I won't. If you can stay out of trouble while you're away from here."  
  
"Where would I be without trouble?" _Where indeed_? He laughed.  
  
Then there was Professor Xavier sitting before me. "Best of luck to you, Mr. Darkmoon," he said. His shake was strong, and he seemed genuinely affable.  
  
"Thanks. I'll be back in a few days," I vowed.  
  
He nodded once. "I look forward to your return."  
  
"Thanks," then to the group, "- to everyone, for being so nice," I said, shouldering my book bag and gripping my overnight bag in one hand. "I really appreciate what you've done for me, letting me stay here and all," I said, overcome with the goofiness of the whole situation.  
  
"We'll all be here when you get back," Warren promised.  
  
"We should be leaving," Ororo said.  
  
"I know," I said, feeling a momentary sadness. "I'm ready. 'Bye."  
  
"'Bye," they chorused once more before Ororo and I walked out the front door to the car waiting outside. We settled ourselves inside, and soon we were on our way.  
  
* * * * *  
  
It was a quiet ride to the airport. I think I apologized to Ororo twice for not being much of a conversationalist that morning. I must have dozed.I'd meant to study my notes on flight back, but suddenly we were pulling up the curb near a sign that said 'Departing Flights'.  
  
"It has been a pleasure to meet you Tres," Ororo said.  
  
"Thanks, Ororo."  
  
"We will be in touch soon to discuss your return," she said.  
  
"Uh.great," I said, none-too enthusiastic. "Until then."  
  
"Until then," she said simply. "May the Bright Lady smile upon you."  
  
"Thank you, Ororo," I said, suddenly shy.  
  
"Well.Here I go," I said, not knowing what else to say. I unbuckled the seatbelt and opened the car door. I got out, carrying my luggage with me. I managed to get checked in and on-board. It was a an uneventful - and sleepy - flight back. From the airport, I caught a cab back to campus.  
  
I managed to get back into my room in the fraternity house without incident. Most everyone was busy with last minute cramming or away at finals; hardly anyone noticed or acknowledged my unexpected appearance. I thought I'd be interrogated, but there were more urgent matters to attend to. Namely, academic success. Or rather - avoiding academic failure.  
  
I tossed my overnight bag in the closet, grabbed a hot shower, and barricaded myself in my room to grab a few more hours of study. I put the X-Men and everything else that had happened to me in the last 72 hours out of my mind.  
  
* * * * *  
  
This story © 2003 Sherman Taylor  
Clayton "Tres" Darkmoon © 2003 Sherman Taylor  
The X-Men, Professor Charles Xavier, and all constituent  
characters © 2002 Marvel Comics Group.  
This story is not for sale and is not to be distributed without  
permission of the author.  
  
Please electronically mail comments to CommanderInChf@aol.com.  
All constructive criticism is appreciated. 


	13. Chapter 8: Future, Past, & Present Tense

Chapter 8  
  
Future, Past, & Present Tense  
  
"Time is the fire in which we burn"  
-Gene Roddenberry  
  
F*U*T*U*R*E  
  
I trudged out of the classroom and into the cold December weather, accompanied by my forty-odd classmates. Two finals down, two to go, I thought with a moderate amount of relief. There was just enough snow to be annoying but not enough to be any real fun. The wind was bitingly cold - especially without my powers. But at least the sun shone brightly in the afternoon sky. After having stayed up for nearly three days straight, I was looking forward to going to bed.  
  
Being awake for many hours to study was sort of like a badge of honor at school; it afforded you bragging rights. At the same time, the combination of exams, stress and fatigue was very disorienting. It made everything take on a dreamlike quality. I should call Professor Xavier, I thought. _Just to let him know I'm all right. And tell him.Tell him.? Tell him what?_ I plodded up a set of stairs, pondering.  
  
I'd put off thinking about the whole X-Men "debacle" for two days.And I still hadn't decided if I would accept Professor Xavier's offer to stay on and train - get better at my powers - or not. Even if it were temporary. _What would that mean exactly?_ _Does that mean I'd become an X-Man?_ Maybe an auxiliary member, I thought with a private chuckle. I could just imagine the way that'd work out.Anyway. _What should I do?_ Even in the short time with Xavier, I've done more with my powers than I'd thought possible. _And I knew 'perfect practice makes perfect'._ Ugh.  
  
_Would it be so bad? Spending a couple weeks in New York rather than going back to see my parents? Associating with infamous psuedo-celebs wouldn't be so awful, I suppose. And going home isn't always relaxing. If I moved more of my stuff to the room I'd had in the mansion - it could almost be fun. Plus Ororo, Warren, and Kitty had been cool to hang out with._  
  
_On one hand, it had been good to be around other mutants again. No more hiding; I could actually use my powers. And they actually had quasi-normal lives, beyond the occasional explosion and bad press. I shouldn't delay any longer; I owe them an explanation and a decision. Especially if I'm going to being living with them for a few weeks._  
  
_But why would I do that? Why should I consider living with them? Maybe that attack was an isolated incident. I'm not affiliated with any super groups or anything. Perhaps it was a coincidence that the fight occurred right when the X-Men showed up to interview me. Maybe they were the reason I got attacked? Or had they staged it so I would come running to them?_ I shook my head at that last bit of cynicism; it was too calculated and didn't fit the M.O. of the X-Men.  
  
I silently ticked off my reasons for hiding at the X-manse: safety, survival, and training. The first two were still in dispute - at least in my mind. But the third one.now where else could I receive proper training on my powers? _And who better to train me than a guy equipped with a super gym who had experience working with other mutants?_  
  
_The bottom line is - am I going to be comfortable living with these people for a while? And what will I gain from it?_  
  
_To the first point - yes I think so. To the second.? Better control over my powers. And now that my powers have grown and are growing - I'd really need that kind of help and tutelage. Maybe learning how to use my powers better with the X-Men would make my membership unnecessary._  
  
I laughed to myself. _As if they'd be so gung-ho about me joining anyway. It's not like they threw me in a costume and told me to be ready at a moment's notice for the next mission. If I take Xavier's offer at face value - just an opportunity to better learn how to use my gifts, then how could I go wrong?_  
  
_But what's Xavier gaining out of this? Just an idle way to pass the time? Taking in stray muties, train 'em up, send 'em back into the world to cause chaos and mayhem? Mutant brainwashing perhaps?_ I frowned slightly. Now that's a very disquieting thought.I looked down at my feet while stomped along the well-salted sidewalks back home. *Crunch, crunch, crunch.*  
  
I sucked cold air deeply into my lungs and exhaled. _Xavier's not a cult leader._ I smiled to myself, having forestalled some of the nagging doubts. I lifted my head to study the leafless trees dotting the campus scenery. _The settings around campus were so drab and dreary in the winter. Not like in West Chester._ My gaze roamed around the nearly lifeless school, currently dotted with the weary-ridden student.  
  
And that was when I saw her. Standing there. Across the street. Watching me as my classmates wandered past her, seemingly without a second glance.  
  
She stood out amidst the zombie-like undergrads; a spark of life surrounded by the walking dead. Straight shoulder-length blond hair. Blue - almost colorless - eyes. Her familiar stance of poised confidence. But flawless features aside, it was her presence that drew my attention to her. Catelyn could always stand out in a crowd. I don't think it was just the fact that she was rich, pretty, and well-dressed - although she was definitely all of those things. She just had this aura about her.  
  
I stopped and stared. Right in the middle of the sidewalk. Simply stared. I was vaguely aware of the stream of people brushing past me to cross the intersection. My heart leapt into my throat. A stray breeze made her silken hair flutter. With a toss of her head, she shook the errant strands away from her face. She regarded me solemnly, a haunted look in her eyes. Then she smiled slightly.  
  
"You all right, Tres? You looked like you've seen a ghost," a familiar voice said at my shoulder. I blinked, and looked away. When I looked back, Catelyn was gone. "You need some rest, Chico," she said. "You're looking pale."  
  
"Huh? What?" I said. _What happened? Where is she?_  
  
"Where's that brilliant repartee, I've come to know and love over the past three years," Sandra said. I looked at her dully. Her teasing tone turned to one of honest concern as I looked into her deep brown eyes. "You okay?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Fine. You're right. I do need a siesta," I agreed. _A long one._  
  
She wove her arm around mine half-pulling me the rest of the way down the steps and across the street. I kept turning this way and that looking over my shoulder. Blindly, I cast my power about, trying to 'search' for her, but she was gone. Without a trace.  
  
Sandra led me all the way back to 'The House' - as she laughingly called it. She said I always spent too much time there with my fraternity brothers. I was too distracted and worn out to contradict her today and because she was also drained from our last final, she didn't seem to notice too much. "All right. Vamonos. To bed," she said, very business like. "Go get some sleep. You can study later," she said.  
  
"Yes, senorita nurse," I said. She struck an authoritative pose - hands on her hips, head cocked to the side. It was her 'I'm Going To Give You Hell' Look that I had become quite familiar with.  
  
"No joking. Go get some sleep. Ahora! Hasta mañana," she said, turning to saunter back to her off-campus apartment.  
  
"Ciao," I called after her before heading inside.  
  
I slowly climbed the stairs to my room. I longed to jump into bed, climb under the sheets and escape from the world. But I couldn't. Not just yet. I had to make a phone call.  
  
I tossed my bookbag in the corner with one hand, while dialing with the other. I had memorized the phone number, having agonized over going back to New York. It rang twice before someone picked up.  
  
"Xavier's Institute," Professor Charles Xavier said.  
  
"Hello Professor. This is Tres.How are you.?" I began to play with the cord. Luckily, I didn't have long to be nervous; the conversation was quick and relatively painless. Afterwards, I undressed and crawled into bed. Sleep came quickly.  
  
P*A*S*T  
  
It'd been a while since he'd sent for me. But he had taken Dean.what was it? Hours ago? Days? Who knew? It was worse when he sent only for Dean. Then I'd be alone in the dark. I loathed being alone now. Bereft of even rats to keep me company, I was left with a raw paralyzing fear devouring me until Dean was brought back in, offering little comfort in his half-conscious state.  
  
Reunited, we'd huddle together in the dark. I could feel Dean's hand on the top of my head, mindlessly brushing the bristles of hair that had grown in over the time we'd spent here. I couldn't sleep. It was too cold and too damp to sleep more than a few minutes. And I hated the dark. Plus, there's no guarantee that I'd wake up here if I closed my eyes. I shivered uncontrollably. It was terrifying to think I could wake up somewhere else if I dozed.  
  
_Maybe he's done. Maybe he'd leave us alone. Maybe now he'd let us go._ "Please. Just let us go." I didn't realize I'd spoken aloud until my cellmate answered.  
  
"It'll be okay," Dean said. "It's all gonna be okay." He patted my head again, affectionately. Mindlessly. "It'll be okay." I didn't know if he actually meant what he said or if he was really carrying out a reflex action. _I wonder if he's going insane. You'd have to, to be able to endure what we had.And still believe things would be 'Okay'._  
  
That thought was particularly depressing and brought fresh tears to my eyes. I'd long since passed the point of being ashamed of crying.  
  
When I first woke up here, I'd no idea that Dean was around; we'd been separated. Then the cool, unctuous Voice had come. And with it, the pain. Pain, humiliation, and powerlessness. Fighting had proved futile. Without powers, escape was impossible and resistance was pointless. Begging, pleading, screaming, tears, nothing had moved the impassive Voice to release me. To stop the torture. Eventually, after an eternity, I was freed. Sent back to my cell. That was when I'd been put together with Dean.  
  
We were together for a time - a very short time. But then we were separated when the Voice took him away from me. That time we were apart was The Worst. Dean was my friend - my rock; I clung to him like an orphan to a security blanket. He was my only familiarity in a world that was suddenly too harsh and unforgiving to comprehend. To have him snatched suddenly away was worse than the initial isolation. But now we were together again. I huddled in the relative safety of his embrace.  
  
I felt a new scar on his bare chest, one that hadn't been there before. My own body had minor cuts and bruises on it, mostly from where I'd twisted and pulled against restraints. There were also burns from the electro-shock therapy and one chemical burn. The Voice had told me that they would all be healed. But the Voice promised so many things.And took away so many others. _Who knows what to believe anymore. Right?_  
  
At that point, I was still pretty lucid. But, the cycle of emotional, mental, and physical abuse was far from over. As time passed, even Dean's familiar touch became anathema. Soon, the only thing that comforted me was the rage and the desire for revenge. I had cursed everything and everyone in my life by then. Leaving me here, alone, to rot, to suffer. I screamed myself hoarse more than once, until hands would hold me down, to keep me from hurting myself.  
  
Over and over again, I thought, if only I had my power. _If only. I'd destroy everything within my sight._  
  
And then - one day - the darkness was lit with a faint light. I scrambled away from it. Suddenly the room exploded in a dazzling array. And she was there, glowing white, looking like a vengeful angel, terrible in her wrath. Behind her was someone else. I scuttled further into the corner of the cage, asking to be left alone. It's another trick, I thought. _Another trick by the devil._  
  
"You're not real," I said aloud. "You're not real at all. Go away. Go away!"  
  
"Oh God," she said in a sad, pitying way. Then in a more determined voice, "I'll free Tres and Dean. You two stand watch," she ordered. Then she stepped into the room. "There's a power suppressor here, so be careful," she advised. Raising her hands, she spoke a single word in a language that seemed somehow familiar. Delicate fingers traced symbols in the air. "Okay - the lock should be open," she said more to herself than me. "Watch my back." She began to stride purposefully into the room tossing her blond hair back out of her face. Looking around once, she knelt down slightly  
  
"I'll have you outta there soon, Tres," she said to me. She reached for the lock, then pulled her hand away as if in pain.  
  
I watched her closely. The Voice had pulled a trick like this once. Making me think that rescuers had come. "You're sick, ya know. What kinda sadistic bastard are you that gets pleasure out of a cruel trick like this. Again," I spat the words at her.  
  
She looked up at me, mumbling something under her breath. "There's some kind of enchantment on this lock. I'll have to null it out first, then open the cage," she called back to the others.  
  
"Hurry up," said an impatient male voice.  
  
"I am," Catelyn insisted. "The magicks are powerful - not run-of-the-mill type stuff," she explained while I watched, arms wrapped tightly around my knees.  
  
"I didn't think anything was too powerful for you," the haughty male voice said.  
  
She didn't even respond to his dig. Just started moving her hands around in strange ways with a few more words. She reached for the lock again and this time pulled it off. She swung open the door, then and beckoned to me. "Come on, Tres," she said to me. "We're getting you and Dean out of here." Looking over her shoulder, "Help me with Dean! He's in a bad way and too heavy for me to lift," she said.  
  
One of the two came over, stooping down to crawl into the cage. With a whimper, I backed away even if the face were. I remembered it. But it must have been years since I'd seen him? Right? Or did it just seem like ages.? The guy had reddish-brown hair pulled back in a short ponytail and he came fully into the cage. He knelt down and shouldered the insensible Dean. In a sudden fit of possessiveness, I threw myself at Dean, latching onto him. _I wouldn't let him be taken. Not again._  
  
"Go'n' be all right, Tres," he said, watching me with his strange eyes.  
  
"Tres!" This was the blond female - Catelyn. I looked at her, mistrust once more making me back away. _He'd never gone to this length with his deception. Toying with me, getting my hopes up then dashing them to pieces._ Everything was so confusing. I didn't know what was real anymore. Drawing my knees up under my chin, I buried my face in my hands and began to sob, wishing it would all just go away. "Come on," she coaxed. "It will be okay. Just come with us. You're safe now. No one will hurt you anymore."  
  
"We have to go," said the other guy - the one standing guard. I looked up, sniffling as Ponytail half-carried, half-dragged Dean to the entrance - a ragged hole in the wall.  
  
"If this power suppressor weren't blocking my powers, I could use my telepathy," Catelyn said. "Guess it's magic to the rescue once more," she said as if exasperated. She wiggled her fingers once more, and the world fuzzed. "I'll wake him once we're away - we may need his power," her voice floated above me. Then I was unconscious.  
  
* * *  
  
"He's only 15, how much could he weigh?" demanded a female voice.  
  
"Then you carry him," came the other voice. This one was male.  
  
"Is he okay, though?" A familiar male voice asked.  
  
"Dean?" I mumbled through the murkiness.  
  
"Good, he's awake," said the first male voice - the one with the short-cropped jet-black hair. Suddenly, I was shifted, lowered to the ground. Even that little movement was agony. I cracked my eyes open. At least the left one. The right seemed to be stuck. Through the eye that worked, I could see four concerned faces looking down at me.  
  
"Can you heal him?" Dean asked.  
  
"I can try. He's injured pretty badly," Catelyn said. "The worst damage is psychological," she explained. "I need to fix that first."  
  
"Telepathy?" asked Ponytail._What was his name again?_  
  
"Yes," she said. Just then I felt a cool touch on my forehead - and inside it as well. I cried out - in surprise and outrage. Then I felt a gentle psychic 'caress'.  
  
[I'm sorry. I am not trying to hurt you,] she said. [I'll be quick. You're just confused.] The pity and compassion were palpable. Literally. [I'm blocking your pain receptors. You won't feel me doing anything to you. Just that I'm here.] Soothing empathic hands massaged my mind, relaxing me. Then she bent her will to the task.  
  
My thoughts were jumbled, disarrayed. Catelyn was picking them up, and re-ordering them. The only way I can think of to describe what she did, would be to compare it to assembling a puzzle. As each 'piece' was laid in place, things began to make sense. It's a crude analogy, but it sufficed. As each thought was organized, I became more aware of my surroundings. The whole process takes a while to describe. But.  
  
[Just hang on. I've.almost.got.it.] "There!" Catelyn declared.  
  
The fog suddenly cleared from my mind, leaving me to deal with the raw ache of days of torture. Nevertheless."Catelyn," I said. I tried to sit up - weakly - but she pushed me back.  
  
"Shhhhhh. Just rest. I need to heal you. It'll only take a minute," Catelyn explained.  
  
"Hurts." I said through the haze of pain.  
  
"I know. I won't take long. I promise. Just lay back. I have to concentrate," she said. Her blond eyebrows drew together as she began to draw on the mystical energies required for her spell.  
  
"Your efforts would certainly save me the trouble," came the Voice. With the sudden clarity of thought, I realized that my powers were active. I reached out with my 'scanning' sense, and locked onto the Voice - 'seeing' without seeing. I rolled in that direction, and hurled my power at him.  
  
The guy with the jet-black hair turned to me. "That must be some dream."  
  
P*R*E*S*E*N*T  
  
It had been the same every day for the last three days. I'd been having the nightmare over and over again. Every time I closed my eyes I would see it all as if it were yesterday. Worse than that.I'd wake up with a splitting headache.  
  
Today was different though. Usually I had to relive Catelyn's death. But today.I rolled over and realized I wasn't alone in my room.  
  
I sat up quickly in bed. It wasn't a huge surprise. My fraternity brothers were forever coming in and out of the room - plus I had a roommate. But the other guy in the room wasn't my roommate. In fact, he wasn't even a student here.  
  
"I apologize for the rude awakening," he said. "But you appeared to be quite.uncomfortable." He gestured at me.  
  
I looked down at my hands, which were aglow with my power. I banished the energy without a second thought. Then I hurled the covers off and swung my legs out of the bed. I was fully awake now.  
  
My uninvited guest eyed the dorm room with barely concealed contempt. He had draped himself over a free chair in the room with practiced, pretentious, ease. In these surroundings his designer attire stood out in sharp relief, like a diamond in the rough.  
  
"As I was saying - that must have been quite some dream you were having? For a moment, I thought you were going to set the bed on fire," he said.  
  
It took a moment for me to place his face. You just don't expect phantoms from the past - and your nightmare - to suddenly become flesh and blood. At least - not in a normal person's life. _Guess I'm not normal._ "Shinobi?"  
  
"Present and accounted for," he said with a hawkish grin.  
  
_It couldn't be._ I studied him. His hair was longer. He looked bigger. But it was definitely him. _What was he now? 22? 23?_ He still looked very polished. And he still affected that arrogant, I'm-better-than- everyone-else demeanor. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Tsk tsk tsk," he clucked. "Do old friends need a reason to visit each other?"  
  
My mood plummeted. "We're old friends?"  
  
"Or something like that," he said.  
  
"What? Were you in the neighborhood? Thought you'd drop by and say 'hello'?" I had mixed feelings about this guy. Shinobi Shaw - the guy was 100% egocentric. Back in high school, he'd wanted to be the leader of our little group. His superior, uncharismatic, attitude had made true leadership impossible. _He was better suited to dictatorship._ He'd never directly done anything malicious, he wasn't what you'd call my bosom buddy. But he had helped me and the others in that final fight. "Sorry," I said, trying to be more positive about his sudden appearance. "It's good to see you again. It's been - "  
  
"Nearly four years."  
  
I frowned. "You're right. I haven't seen or heard from you in all that time. And now you show up in my room." I considered how best to broach the topic. "You were never one for wasting time on pleasantries. So let's cut to the chase. Here you are. You show up after four years of being incommunicado?" My eyes narrowed. "Is something wrong? Did something happen?" My eyes widened. "He didn't come back did he?"  
  
Shinobi raised a hand. "Calm down. Nothing like that," he said. He shifted nervously though. "Although you are right. I did come here with a purpose. Two actually."  
  
"I see." I folded my arms across my chest. "And those would be.?"  
  
He paused, shifted in his seat again, then rose. For the first time, I saw his flawless façade crack; underneath, there was a tired visage pinched with sadness. "Are you going to.?" He swallowed hard, and looked away. "Are you going to Boston?" He asked in a soft voice. "To visit her grave?"  
  
"I haven't been to that cemetery before," I said simply. "It's kinda hard to explain to your parents you that you need airfare to Boston because you want to visit the grave of a friend of yours without telling them." A lump swelled in my throat, I choking off the rest of my words. I took a moment to compose myself. "I wasn't planning on it."  
  
Shinobi nodded slowly in comprehension. "I know. I'm going. I've been there every year since the accident. I've even seen Dean, there."  
  
My ears perked up. "How is he?" I tried to sound casual.  
  
Shinobi smiled. It was a wolfish, joyless expression. He knew he'd needled me. "He looks good. He's dealt very well with his loss."  
  
"We've talked," I said looking at my feet. "I even got a letter from him yesterday." Which I hadn't had the heart to open, yet. "But I haven't seen him since school." I exhaled loudly. "So now you know I'm not going to the high school reunion in the cemetery. What was the other reason that made you come to Pittsburgh?"  
  
"I wanted to be sure you were all right."  
  
I arched an eyebrow at him. "Why?"  
  
Shinobi laughed. Mirthlessly. "I never thought you were stupid, Tres. Or are you going by Clayton now?"  
  
"Tres."  
  
"I never thought you were particularly stupid, Tres. Do I need to spell it out for you why I would be concerned?"  
  
I glared at him. "You're right - I'm no idiot. No more than you are compassionate. But I don't have time for games either, Shinobi. And while it's good to see an 'old friend', my patience is wearing thin." I jumped down from the bed. When I touched the ground, I was glowing again. I didn't bother to snuff out my powers though and let them convey my mood better than words. _I may be wearing boxers from Sears, and he may be clad in a suit from Armani, but I will not be intimidated by this snobby upstart._  
  
Shinobi regarded me coolly, as one would regard an insect. "I can see four years has done wonders for improving your patience and temperament." I let a little power leak from my eyes, azure fire dancing in my vision. Shinobi noticed. "I was concerned. It was all over the news. 'Mutants responsible for mass destruction in Pittsburgh. Film at eleven'," he quoted.  
  
"So." It was as much a noncommittal statement as it was a question.  
  
"So.Sentinels attacked you. And the X-Men," he added. "Now where do you think those Sentinels came from? Who do you think manufactured them?"  
  
His bluntness gave me pause. "Do you know?" I asked.  
  
"Of course. One of the privileges of wealth and station."  
  
I rolled my eyes. "Spare me one of your 'I'm-better-than-thou-because-I've- got-money' speeches," I said. "If you have information I'm glad to hear it. If not.," I indicated the door, "please feel free to leave at any time."  
  
Shinobi sighed and then began to pace in front of me. "Really. I'd think you'd be a little more generous with your time. Especially since you'll benefit greatly from what I have to tell you."  
  
"This isn't a game, Shinobi!" I snapped. He stopped mid-stride. "People could've gotten hurt or killed. I could have been hurt or killed. I don't have time for your nonsense." We stared hard at each other for a moment. "I can see you haven't changed at all."  
  
Shinobi lifted his head a little higher. "As I was saying before you interrupted me with your childish outburst," he said condescendingly. "I know who was responsible for manufacturing the Sentinels that attacked you. And where they were made," he said. "I wanted to tell you."  
  
I was immediately suspicious. "Goodwill? From you? That's an unflattering look on you, Shinobi." _And way out of character._  
  
He crossed the short distance between us until we were standing toe-to-toe. "Do you want to hear what I have to say or not, Tres?"  
  
I stared him straight in the eye, but didn't try to calm myself. Finally I said, "What?"  
  
Shinobi began to speak once again. I didn't interrupt this time. My body shield swirled more violently the longer he spoke. When he was finished, I was silent. "You're not going to say anything?"  
  
I turned away from him to look out the window. "Do you know why?"  
  
"A contract for your life," was all he said. "And the Sentinels needed a test subject. Make sure all the design specifications were right."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"I don't know. I couldn't find out. But it was a lot of money. Twenty," he said.  
  
"Good to know I'm not a cheap kill," I said. "Thank you for the information," I said icily, focusing on the winter-stripped trees in the courtyard outside.  
  
"You're welcome," he said.  
  
"Is there anything else?" I asked raggedly.  
  
"No." He shook his head, then added, "That's all I know."  
  
"Then, go," I whispered.  
  
There was a pregnant silence where Shinobi seemed uncertain. "I'll leave you alone now," he said quietly. "Please give my regards to my father when you see him," he said hauntingly.  
  
I didn't look at him as he left the room. "I will, Shinobi. I promise," I swore. The door clicked loudly behind him.  
  
* * * * *  
  
This story © 2003 Sherman Taylor  
Clayton "Tres" Darkmoon © 2003 Sherman Taylor  
The X-Men, Professor Charles Xavier, and all constituent  
characters © 2003 Marvel Comics Group.  
This story is not for sale and is not to be distributed without  
permission of the author.  
  
Please electronically mail comments to CommanderInChf@aol.com.  
All constructive criticism is appreciated. 


End file.
